The Bliss of Lies
by Sunset
Summary: A high school friend of Warricks has been hiding a secret. One that will change both their lives. Set mid season 5 before Grave Danger, before Tina.
1. Chapter 1

**The Bliss of Lies**

"Damn." Catherine Willows clicked her cell phone shut and shook her head in disappointment. Running her fingers through her blonde shoulder skimming hair, she caught Warrick Brown's eye. Her colleague for many years, Warrick was now her subordinate, thanks to a well-earned, long over due promotion Catherine had received. Switching from nightshift to swing shift had not been an easy change for either of the CSI's, or for their coworker Nick Stokes, who had made the switch with them. Originally applying for the position of day shift supervisor, the job had that had been left open when Conrad Ecklie had himself been elevated to assistant lab director. Catherine had been blind sided by being promoted to the swing shift instead, thanks in part to office politics and in larger part to Ecklie's just wanting to stick it to the night shift supervisor, Gil Grissom. She had applied for dayshift, not for the salary increase, and not even for the raise in status, but because by working days she would be able to get home before her daughter Lindsay was sound asleep.

Warrick, for his part found that he liked clocking out at midnight instead of clocking in. Though in reality, the schedule had very little to do with actual working hours, you couldn't just tell evidence to wait, that it was midnight and you had a hot date.

Now, at 8pm, the middle of their shift, their latest case solved, the bad guy being booked at that very moment, Warrick suddenly found himself with nothing to do, and sat on the break room sofa, watching Catherine cuss at her cell phone. "What's up?" He raised his eyebrows and almost imperceptibly lifted his chin.

"There's this concert" Catherine flopped onto the couch next to him "that Lindsay really wants to go to, I thought if I could get tickets. . ." Catherine let the words hang in the air, not wanting to admit what she'd been hoping for.

"You'd be mom of the year again." Warrick finished for her.

Catherine nodded slowly and closed her eyes against the image that she'd become one of those mothers who would try to buy her daughters love, but at this point in Lindsay's twelve year old life, she would sell her soul to the devil himself to have Linds not be so angry with her, even if for a few hours.

"What concert?" Warrick asked.

"Oh, you've probably never heard of her, Carly Lynne James, she's this country singer. Lindsay really wants to go to the concert at The Stardust." Catherine glared at her cell, as if it was the phones fault for not having the right number to find tickets.

"Carly Lynne James." Warrick said slowly, teasing, pausing after each name. "Not only have I heard of her. . ." he leaned forward and reached around to his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, extracting four slips of thick bright yellow paper that resembled book marks. He handed them to Catherine. "You don't think Linds would mind watching the concert from backstage, do you?"

"How the hell did you get these?" Catherine asked, her eyes as wide as her smile, holding the passes as if they were dipped in gold.

Warrick smiled and settled back into the corner of the couch, his back up against the armrest. "Went to high school with Carly. She sent these over earlier."

Catherine cocked an eyebrow, the corners of her lips tugged upward in a teasing smile.

Warrick shrugged, answering the question behind Catherine's grin. "We were friends."

Settling back into the cushions of the break room sofa, Catherine crossed her legs and waved the backstage passes in front of her like a fan, "Please, do go on."

Warrick tilted his head and let his gaze quickly trip over her, noticing the flirtatious spark her own eyes held. His tongue darted out wetting his lips. "I accompanied her at the concert's the school put on."

"Piano." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah."

Catherine's brow furrowed in confusion "You played country?"

He shook his head, chuckling at the thought. "Yeah, picture that. No, she didn't sing country then. Christmas standards. Spring concerts she'd sing jazz or torch songs, like that."

"You date her?" Catherine felt a twinge of jealousy.

"Nah. We kind of hung out, during rehearsal. Senior year, the school musical director was going through a divorce, he'd be late a lot. Carly and I'd have to wait for him. We talked."

Catherine nodded slowly while she appraised the explanation. "And just like that twenty years later, she sends you backstage passes."

"Well…" Warrick moved his head, looking away from her. "Look. You remember when I told you what high school was like for me?"

Catherine nodded. "You were a loser."

He whipped his head quickly back around; his blue eyes wide with disbelief she'd called him that. He gave her a look for the comment. It was the reaction she'd wanted, the small tug of her teasing smile let him know she'd done it on purpose. He shook it off. "Whatever. Carly was one too. She was a geek, didn't have the money or the style for the right clothes, all the girls made fun of her."

"You bonded out of gawkiness."

"Yeah. I even took her to the prom." He got quiet for a moment, his eyes glazing over, lost in the memory. Catherine left him a lone, letting him remember, watching his face change almost imperceptibly as he relived the long ago evening. After a moment, he twitched, focusing back on the present day, and shrugged again, pulling out from under the memory.

Catherine gave him an understanding smile. "So. There's four passes; Linds, me, you… and…?" She ran the back of a fingernail over the fan of passes, making a clicking sound like a playing card in bicycle spokes.

"Dunno." Warrick looked out toward the hallway, as if he'd decided to bring whomever next walked past the open door. After a moment, he looked back to Catherine. "Nick I guess. He likes that country stuff."

* * *

Carly Lynne James stood in the middle of the stage at the Stardust concert hall; she wiped the sweat off her forehead then gathered her wild, curly blonde hair, piling it on top of her head, holding it there with her left hand as she fanned herself with her right.

"The touch of his eyes / From across the room / The touch of his fingertips / Stroking my arm / The touch of his palm / Leading me across the floor / The touch of his lips / On mine / The touch of his breath / Against my ear / The touch of his voice / In his murmuring" Carly lost herself in the song, feeling the rhythm in her very pulse, allowing the beat to drown out the whispers of her heart. The music swelled to a crescendo then gradually ended, whispering itself out like a candle flame chased by a lusty breath. The white spotlight that had encircled Carly during the song blinked out; leaving the theatre bathed in darkness, save for the isle lights that looked to Carly very much like tiny runways. The roadies gathered around the stage broke into applause, breaching the silence the music had left in its wake, and when the lights came up again, her smile was gracious and real. She spun on the toes of her boots to face the musicians she'd come to consider a second family. Clapping her hands, she applauded their hard work. "Thanks guys."

"Carly." The booming voice of the stage manger came out from the darkness of the auditorium, "let's take ten while the guys reset."

Carly nodded her assent and pulled the microphoned headband off. Heels clacked their approach and she turned to find one of her back up singers, Jill Johansen approaching with a bottle of water.

"Nice set Carly; sounded good." Jill held out the bottle, the bright red talons she called fingernails clicked on the plastic as Carly took it from her hand.

"Thanks." Carly twisted off the cap. "You too. Ya'll were in good voice." She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a long swig.

"Aw, so sweet of you to say." Jill tilted her head and smiled, but Carly noticed the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Hey, Carly? You got company." The stage manager had abandoned the booming microphone, and used his normal hollering voice to call out, breaking the awkward silence growing between the singer and the back up singer. _Thank God_ Carly thought to herself and turned away from the woman she didn't like, but had hired at Tommy's instance.

The darkness of the seating arena was like a fog that lifted as it approached the lit stage. Carly heard footsteps. "Ginger?" Her voice grew excited as she climbed down off the stage and ran out into the seating, teetering on the stiletto of her boots. "Ginger!" she called out again as Ginger James, her niece stepped out into the light echoing off the stage.

Ginger's kinky dark blonde hair was pulled up into a chaotic ponytail; strands of hair fell into her bright blue eyes. She wore faded jeans with her red cotton tank top; her dark-honey colored skin spoke of a heritage her aunt's milky white complexion had little to do with. Gingers toe-shoe like slippers trotted down the slant of the isle, bringing her to meet her aunt as quickly as she could. The two women met at the edge of the light, Carly gathered Ginger into a giant hug. "I wasn't expecting you for another couple of days!"

"I know, but Peter was giving me such a hard time, and the house is so empty now…I just threw my stuff in the car and drove."

"Peter didn't want you to leave?" Carly asked, referring to her nieces boyfriend she'd met a handful of times.

The girl shrugged. "He thinks I should have stayed and married him." Ginger placed one of her hands on her belly, only slightly swollen from the baby she carried inside.

"Well, I'm glad you're here. And the house is plenty big enough, you can have all the privacy you need." Carly rolled her eyes at the thought of the mansion-sized home Tommy had rented as a surprise for her. She would have never looked twice at the ostentatious house, but Tommy had thought it fitting for her image. They'd moved in two weeks ago, after signing with the Stardust for the yearlong engagement, and Carly was sure there were rooms she still hadn't seen.

Relief washed over Gingers face. "Tell you what." Carly glanced toward the stage where her band stood trying to look as if they weren't watching the two women. "I have to get back to rehearsal." She turned her head, and looked toward the back of the theatre, finding the man she was looking for, she waved in a come here motion. The tall black man his hair graying at the temples sauntered down the isle toward them. "Ginger, this is Arthur, the Stardust has graciously hired him to drive me while I'm here. He's gonna take you home." Carly looked toward the tall man, placing a hand on his arm. "My niece Ginger is going to stay with me for a while. Would you mind helping her with whatever bags she's got in her car?"

Arthur smiled genuinely, he liked Carly; she hadn't treated him as a servant as most of the famous people he'd driven did. "Of course. I'll come back for you after the concert."

Carly shook her head. "No, I'll drive Gingers car to the house. It's just easier this way, than to have Ginger try and find The Manor." Arthur smiled when she used the nickname they secretly shared for the house Tommy loved and Carly hated.

He nodded his understanding. "Ok then."

Carly hugged Ginger one more time before saying her goodbyes and headed back to the stage to finish rehearsal.

Just off stage, Jill Johansen watched the interaction between the two women in the audience. She felt him walk up and stand very close behind her. Keeping her eyes on Carly and Ginger, she moved her head just a little toward the man behind her. "Who's the girl?"

"Ginger. Carly's niece." Tommy Bryans, Carly's manager for five years, and husband for three answered in a whispering tone.

They watched as Ginger followed Arthur back up the isle. A sour grin spread over Jill's face as she turned her body toward Tommy and took a small step in, closing the distance "Looks like you have company."

Tommy grunted, pissed off that Carly hadn't bothered to ask him if he minded the houseguest. He knew Ginger was pregnant, his eyes clouded over with visions of being woken up at ungodly hours by a wet, hungry infant. "Yeah, guess so."

Jill felt the anger radiate off of him and giggled, enjoying the moment at Carly's expense. She stood on her tiptoes and placed a quick peck of a kiss on Tommy's lips. Tommy looked down at her with wide-eyed shock and anger. "Damn it Jill! I've told you, not where we can be seen. I think Carly's beginning to suspect."

Jill waved her hand in a 'who cares' gesture. "She's way over there, nobody saw. Kiss me again" she said and grabbed his belt buckle, pulling him closer to her.

He pushed her hands away from him. "Go rehearse. Learn how to be a star." As an exclamation point, he slapped her ass.

Jill gave him a twisted smirk before turning and heading back out on stage, letting her ass put on a private show for him.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a wonderful day for Catherine. After finding Lindsay asleep when she'd gotten home the previous night, just a few hours after her conversation with Warrick, Catherine had had to wait until this morning to share the good news with her daughter. The excitement on Lindsay's face that morning was a moment Catherine would hold in heart forever. After a talkative breakfast, much different than the sullen quiet ones they usually shared, Catherine let Lindsay play hookey from school and they'd made a day of it, shopping for outfits to wear to the concert, having lunch at one of the fancier hotels before topping the afternoon off with a movie.

Now, backstage, Catherine watched Lindsay's face, her mouth moving, singing along with the words. Her skin and blonde hair, bathed in the bright white lights reflecting from the stage, took on an angelic glow, reminding Catherine of the sweet dispositional daughter she used to have. The twelve year old had been slipping out of Catherine's grasp lately, normal for any girl her age, but Catherine couldn't help but feel that her work schedule made it worse that it should have been.

Even with the shift change, Catherine had only precious little more time to spend with Lindsay than she'd had working nights. Since the death of Lindsay's father Eddie a few years ago, Catherine had relied more and more on babysitters and kind hearted neighbors to stay with Lindsay, and the CSI felt that her daughter was closer to these other women than she was to her.

_But not tonight_ she thought to herself, smiling. _Tonight, she's my little girl again. _She put a loving hand on the back of Lindsay's head, letting it rest there a brief second before she ran it down the length of her hair. Lindsay glanced up to her mother, pure joy in her face and Catherine's heart twisted a bittersweet tug. Lindsay's smile grew even wider, something Catherine wouldn't have thought possible and the girl turned her attention back toward the concert. Catherine's gaze drifted up, and she found Warrick eyes, he'd been watching the interaction between mother and daughter. _Thank you _Catherine mouthed. Warrick only nodded once as a reply, a small smile on his lips.

Carly's voice filled the packed theatre. Spotlights zigzagged over the audience, turning the screaming faces into a nightmarish caricature. Carly was amazed at the number of people who came to see her sing, while she was grateful, and knew she was lucky to be one of the chosen few, her only regret was the lack of privacy that had long since become routine. Add to that Tommy's odd behavior that eventually led her to suspect him of having an affair, and she'd been so topsy-turvy, that when the offer to play The Stardust came, she jumped at the chance to come back to the city she'd grown up in and hoped for some stability in the stay, maybe even save her marriage.

"What's a girl to do?" Carly sang the last lines of the closing number, the single that had risen to number five just that week. The lights blinked out, leaving the stage awash in blackness and the crowd grew even louder in the absence of the music. A moment later the spotlight blinked back on finding Carly standing in the middle of the stage, one hand clasped against her chest, near her heart. "Thank you everybody. Goodnight." She said, the microphone sending her words out over the crowd. Once again the lights blinked off, and Carly made her way off the stage, pulling the headband/microphone contraception off as she went.

One of the stage hands jogged up to her, and in one swift movement, took the microphone from her and grabbed hold of her hand, leading her off the stage. Just past the curtains, officially "backstage" the two of them stopped, the techie dropping her hand and heading off to finish his nights work. Carly paused a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting, and letting her mind down shift out of performance mode. Her make up girl, Gypsy, whose real name she'd once confided to Carly, was Susan Renwald, came up and slipped a towel around Carly's neck, as if trying to sop up some of the sweat the hot lights had triggered. Carly grabbed a corner of the towel and patted her hairline and face, letting her eyes dart around, looking for Warrick amid the commotion.

It didn't take but a moment to find him, Warrick's height, and the fact that they were they only four people not rushing around, made the small group stand out. Carly broke into a wide grin at the sight of her old friend, and took off in a gallop, racing toward him.

"Warrick Brown!" She called out at the same time the blonde woman standing next to Warrick moved a young girl out of the way of the approaching singer. The other man in the group, a little shorter than Warrick, with a dark brown hair, also stepped back out of the way. Carly jumped, throwing her arms around Warrick's neck and her legs around his waist in a massive bear hug. Warrick, unprepared by the sudden load, took a small step backwards to regain his balance and pulled his arms around Carly's back, returning the hug, laughing. The towel around Carly's shoulders slipped to the floor at his feet.

Carly hopped down, putting her feet on the floor, but kept one arm around Warrick's waist. "So _good _to see you." She told him, a rush of something like relief washed over her, like arriving home after a harrowing trip away. "I'm so glad you came." She reached up and hugged him again.

"What, and miss the chance of seeing the 'hottest rising star'? Come on." Warrick answered her, his voice teasing, his smile huge.

On the sidelines of the group, Catherine and Nick exchanged glances; neither had seen Warrick smile that brightly before. They grinned at each other, caught up in the joy of the moment. Nick stepped in a little closer to Catherine, and the movement caught Carly's eye.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" She asked giving Warrick's shoulder a playful slap.

"Oh, yeah, of course. Carly," he held out his hand indicating each of them as he spoke "these are my friends, Nick Stokes" Nick nodded and offered Carly a charming smile "Catherine Willows" Catherine nodded hello. "And this" he paused, giving Lindsay's introduction special weight "is Lindsay Willows, Catherine's daughter."

Lindsay was bouncing on her feet, filled with so much excitement. She rushed at Carly, grabbing the singers hands in her own. "I'm such a huge fan of ours that was an awesome show oh my God none of my friends are going to believe I met you." Her words came out rushed, falling on top of each other, in one long sentence.

Carly smiled at the girl, and cupped Lindsay's cheek in one hand. "Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"OhmyGod, it was SO good." Linds began to bounce again.

Tommy walked up joining the group. Warrick let his arm drop off of the other mans wife, and couldn't help but notice that Tommy didn't put his own arm around Carly.

"Hey." Carly greeted her husband "This is Warrick." She turned again toward her old friend.

"You're the man I've been hearing so much about." Tommy offered his hand, and Warrick shook it. Introductions were made all around, Nick and Catherine both shaking hands with the singers manager/husband.

After a few moments of small talk, Tommy looked at his wife "Carly, there's some things we need to discuss with the band before we let them go for the night." His voice took on his managerial tone.

Catherine looked at her watch. "Oh, God. I didn't realize how late it is." She put her hands on Lindsay's shoulders and looked down at her. "We should be getting home too."

"Mmmmooommmm." Lindsay began to protest. "It's not a school night!"

Catherine tilted her head, searching for the words that wouldn't end this perfect day with an argument. Carly watched the interaction for a moment and her face brightened with an idea. "Hey!" She turned toward Tommy and grabbed the crew pass that hung on a black cord around his neck. Lifting the plastic encased badge, she unclipped one end of the cord and slipped the whole thing off of him. She sent a questioning glance to Catherine, and got an imperceptible nod of ok in return. "Tell you what Lindsay, you take this" she placed the pass in the young girls hand, piling the cord on top like coiled snake, "and if it's ok with your mom, you can come back tomorrow night."

Lindsay closed her fist tightly around the badge, treasuring it and her wide-eyed gaze of amazement almost made Carly cry. Catherine leaned down close to Lindsay's ear. "Say thank you" she whispered.

"Thank y0u." Lindsay immediately parroted, the movement of her lips seemed to bring her out of her stunned state, and she squealed jumping up to wrap her arms around Carly's neck "Thank you thank you thank you!"

Nick and Warrick exchanged smiling glances, they each thought of Lindsay as a member of their family, and were both delighted to see her having such a good time.

"Ok." Catherine said as she pulled Lindsay off the singer. "We really do have to be going."

Tommy took an ownership hold of Carly's upper arm, Warrick guessed he was getting ready to pull her away if the little group didn't break up in the next moment or two. He narrowed his eyes, searching Carly's face for a reaction to Tommy's possessiveness, he didn't see one there and wondered if she'd gotten used to it, or if she was putting on a front for him.

"Yeah, it's about my bedtime too." Nick agreed with Catherine's statement, doing what he could to make the departure easier on mother and daughter alike.

Lindsay threw a glance up to Warrick, her last hope. He nodded apologetically, "Yeah, sorry kiddo, your mom is right."

Linds took a deep, resigned breath. "Ok."

To Carly, Warrick said: "Lunch tomorrow?"

"I'd love that!" As the two of them made the arrangements on where to meet, Gypsy walked up behind them and stooped to pick up the fallen towel she'd given to Carly. Her spaghetti strapped tank top gave Nick a birds eye view of her cleavage as she bent over, and he was still staring when she stood up and walked past him, giving him a wink as she did. He turned and watched her walk away.

"Nick!" Catherine's voice derailed his train of thought; he tore his eyes away from the retreating Gypsy and turned back toward the group only to find everyone staring at him with amused grins. He returned their smiles with an embarrassed one of his own, and gave a silent shrug.

"Can't take you anywhere." Catherine muttered as she tugged his sleeve and guided Lindsay away with her other hand.

"What can I do?" Nick asked good-humouredly, his dark brown eyes shinning.

"Yeah, I know, you're a chick magnet." Catherine teased. "Good to meet you, and thanks." She said to Carly as they walked toward the stage door and the parking lot.

Carly took a resigned breath and slipped her arm away from Tommy's grip. She hugged Warrick tightly. "I'll see you tomorrow. There's a lot we have to talk about."

Warrick only nodded as she pulled herself away from him. As she walked away, Tommy's hand back on her arm, Warrick couldn't help but wonder if she was happy with her life.

* * *

_"It's raining" Carly said, the disappointment in her voice dripped like the drops of the offending rain dropped off the porch overhang above them._

"_Yeah" Warrick answered her, and took a step, repositioning himself next to her, at her right elbow._

"_We live in the freakin' _desert_! It's not supposed to rain here." After a moments pause, she added, "Especially not tonight." She looked down at her feet, and pulled her red dress up an inch or so, revealing the high-heeled shoes she'd bought special for the occasion._

_He watched her face, seeing the movements of her arms in his peripheral vision, and realized it was her dress and shoes she was most worried about. _What is it _he thought to himself, _about the prom that made girls so crazy? _"Com'on" he told her and opened the giant umbrella her mother had handed him inside. Grabbing her hand, they made a dash for his grandmothers' Oldsmobile sitting in the driveway._

For the past few years, Warrick had been trying to understand why the powers that be had chosen to paint the lab walls this particular shade of blue, a bright neon blue that fairly bounded off each wall, and reflected up from the shiny polished floors, surrounding everyone in an azure aura, much like the city outside did. But the morning after the concert, as he strolled down the halls, enveloped in blue, he found himself humming.

He'd come in early, hours early even for his new start time, to check on some lab results, and maybe, if they came back as his gut told him they were going to, have an arrest before lunch with Carly.

He suppressed a frown at the thought of his friend; worry had filled his night, taking the place of any real sleep. He'd finally given up and climbed out of bed at seven, making in to the lab in just over an hour, playing her CD in the Tahoe on the way in. He glanced at his watch, at almost eight thirty; he expected to bump in to Grissom or Sara, logging in overtime. He grabbed the door jam and leaned his upper body in through the opening. Mia, the DNA lab technician, sat alone amid buzzing machines and half full test tubes. "Hey" he said quietly, trying not to startle her.

It didn't work. Mia's back flinched, and she turned to him with a sour look on her face. Confusion clouded her eyes for a moment, and she glanced at the clock on the wall. "You're quite early."

"Yeah, I wanted to check on the results on that saliva I found at my bank rob…" his words were cut off by Nick, jogging down the hall, calling his name.

Concern filled Nicks eyes. "Hey man, I came in as soon as I saw the news." He lifted his chin just a little, the concern turning to bewilderment on seeing Warrick's own confusion reflected back at him. "How ya doing?"

"What the hell you talking about?"

"Carly, man." Nick's hand came up, hovering above Warrick's shoulder for just a moment before he landed the touch. "It was on the news. . ." he paused, searching for the right words. "There was a car accident. Carly was killed."

"What?" Warrick's eyes grew wide, disbelieving. Nick opened his mouth, to repeat himself, but Warrick was no longer listening. The taller CSI turned and ran down the hall, headed to the morgue.


	3. Chapter 3

"Broken nose, cheek bones, fractured ribs, all from probable impact with the steering wheel or perhaps the dash board." Doctor Al Robbins bent slightly over the body on the shiny metal table, his fingers gently nudged at the abrasions. Across the table, his assistant David stood with his back to the door taking notes, occasionally using his index finger to push his glasses back up his nose.

When Warrick burst through the double doors of the morgue, his eyes scanned the familiar room as if he was seeing it for the first time. Stopping his examination, Doc Robbins looked up, meeting Warrick's eyes, recognizing the blue orbs of his co-worker, but not the fear, confusion and pain they carried. "Warrick? Are you alright?" David turned around, following the elder doctors line of sight, his face turning from quizzical to worried in the instant it took to take in the sight of the man standing in the open doorway.

Through the dull hum in his ears, Warrick heard the doctor's question, but the words made no sense to him, his own name meaningless. His entire universe consisted only of the mass of blonde hair hanging off the end of the table. Every fiber of his being, every nerve of his body, all vibrating; if he'd been able to consciously think about it, he would have felt like a newly tuned violin; strung tightly and ready to wail.

Nick appeared in the open doorway, out of breath from the run to catch up with Warrick. He stopped short before running smack into Warrick, who was as still as a statue, his arms stretched out to his sides, holding open the doors.

"Gentlemen?" Doc Robbins voice took on the authoritative tone he usually reserved for his kids, not for CSI's he worked with. Nick held up a hand, stopping the doctor's discourse, at the same time Warrick found his feet and walked over to the body on the table.

"Guys, I know the vic was famous. . ." David began, but Nick cut him off.

"He knew her David. Carly was an old friend of Warrick's."

"Oh." David answered, his voice half full of shame in his assumption and half in awe of Warrick's proximity to someone famous.

Robbins, for his part, was more concerned about Warrick. The lanky CSI had still not uttered a word, and only stood there, staring at the woman's face, somehow avoiding, or just not seeing the torso that had already been laid open, her organs removed and lined up on another table, next to a clear jar of liquid, Carly's stomach contents. "Warrick, don't remember her like this." The doctors voice employed the bedside manner quality that he so rarely got to use.

Warrick didn't respond.

With a deep sigh and a shake of his head, Nick moved up behind him, and clasped his friend's shoulders. "Come on man, Doc's right. You shouldn't see her like this."

Warrick swallowed hard. "She…" was all he could manage to say.

"I know." Nick soothed and pulled at Warrick's shoulders, maneuvering him away and out the door.

* * *

"I want this case." 

"I think you need to go home and get some…"

"I want this case." Warrick stood up from the couch; setting down the glass of water Nick had brought him ten minutes ago after steering him in to the break room. Now, partially recovered from his shock, Warrick stood, staring down Catherine.

"Technically, it's Grissom's case…" Catherine tried her last excuse to keep Warrick off the case she knew would hurt him more than help.

"Catherine…" Warrick's voice held a warning and she took it to heart.

Holding up a hand to stop him from saying whatever it was he was about to say, she gave in. "Ok, ok. I'll talk to Grissom. He'd probably welcome you with open arms."

* * *

Gil Grissom shook his head. "No." He offered nothing in the way of explanation, just the simple no. Catherine wasn't giving up without a fight.

"Gil, he needs to do this. He feels…well, I don't know what he feels, but when I lost Eddie…"

Grissom cut her off. "When Eddie died, I didn't allow you to work the case, because you were to close to it. Same with Warrick. And," Gil pointed at her with the pen in his hand "he's already proved himself incapable of emotional detachment when a friend of his involved."

"Yeah, I remember, but that was different, he hasn't seen Carly in so many years, she's like a complete stranger to him now…"

"Then why does he feel the need to work this case?"

"Because…" Catherine held her breath, searching her brain for just the right answer. She exhaled loudly when the right words didn't come. She shook her head in defeat and tossed up her hands. "I don't know why. But he does need to."

Grissom pulled off his glasses, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath of his own, the actions of man who knew all to well the meaning of the phrase, 'damned if you do, damned if you don't.' "Catherine…" he began, and opened his eyes, surprised to find Conrad Ecklie, the assistant director of the lab, standing behind Catherine in the open office doorway. "Conrad." Grissom greeted his boss civilly, if a little coolly.

Catherine turned, and from the look on her face, Grissom knew Ecklie's sudden appearance was a surprise to her as well. "Gil, Catherine." Conrad stepped into the room, and stuck his hands in his pants pockets. "I'm glad you're both here, I've just spoke with the Sheriff; Carly Lynn James was a star, the press is already setting up camp outside, the Sheriff wants both teams on this case, all resources are available to you."

Catherine turned back toward Grissom, a cat like grin spreading across her face. "Problem solved."

* * *

_Several spot lights crisscrossed around the dance floor. Warrick held Carly around her waist, and hoped that his sweaty palms weren't seeping into her dress. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and she felt him swallow hard. Lifting her head, she looked up at him. "Did you request this song for me?"_

_He hadn't been paying attention to the lyrics, and paused a moment, listening to the words. "_Lady in red is dancing with me. Cheek to cheek. Nobody here, just you and me" _He smiled, realizing the significance. _

"_No, but I probably should have."_

"_Yes. You should have." Carly teased before she laid her head back on his shoulder. _

"Warrick?" he looked up, and under different circumstances, Sara might have been amused by his expression. He seemed bewildered, a little lost. "You alright?"

"Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?" He forced his muscles to relax, leaning his body against the doorframe of the layout room.

She looked away from him, the way anyone does when they know they're being lied to and don't want to press the issue. "You've been standing there for a couple of minutes, staring into space" she told him, as she looked at the evidence laid out on the table in front of her.

He didn't bother to try and explain. Even if he'd felt the need to, he wasn't sure what he would say.

"What've we gotten so far?" Warrick walked into the room and stood behind her, she glanced over her shoulder at him, then turned her attention back to the table and reached for a report encased in one of the files stacked at her side. Handing it to him with one hand, she tucked strands of brunette hair behind her ear with the other and answered his question, speaking as she went back to work, dusting fingerprint powder on to the water bottle in front of her.

"Police report on the accident. My notes and sketches of the scene." Warrick held the report in front of him with both hands gingerly, as if it contained the secrets of Life itself, and he slid into the chair at the head of the table. Each CSI studied what was in front of them in silence for a few moments before Sara broke the silence. "Gris says you knew her."

"High school." Warrick answered without looking up. Sara nodded once in reply.

"You date her?" Sara asked, cocking an eyebrow, and tilted the bottle, examining a fingerprint the dust had made visible.

"We were friends." Warrick answered, his tone telling her he was done with that line of conversation. He flipped the page, his hand stopped in mid air, the page standing perpendicular. Sara noticed the sudden lack of activity and looked up, finding Warrick staring down at the first photo of the scene.

The Camry had gone off the road, veering into someone's yard, and smashing into a tree. The hood of the car now formed a squat v shape, with the tree stuck in the middle. The headlights were still on, and they beamed up at him from the photo like unblinking eyes. Sara had been standing roughly ten feet from the front of the car when she'd taken the picture, and the flash reflected back in the windshield, the small circle of light caught Warrick's eye, and when he looked closer, his heart jumped into his throat. A mass of blonde curls lay on top of the steering wheel; Carly's head had fallen forward at some point during the accident.

"Here." Sara reached across the table, taking the file from him, replacing it with another that contained only her sketches. When Warrick looked up at her, for just an instant she could see his eyes were wet, before he blinked several times, sweeping away the tears.

"Hey guys." Nick walked in and up to the table, and hooked his hands on his hips. "You seen the press outside? It's startin' to look like O.J. out there." He moved his chin, indicating everything on the table. "What can I do?"

"Well" Sara pulled the word in to two syllables. "It was a one vehicle incident. We haven't ruled if the scene was an accident or possibly malfunction of the vehicle or…" she paused and glanced at Warrick.

"Or driver error" he finished for her.

"We're still waiting on the tox report," she said apologetically.

"Warrick." Catherine's voice came from the doorway. When he looked up, she was standing just outside the threshold, her palms on either side of the doorframe, with her upper body leaning in through the opening. "You wanna come with me, we've got an interview. You might be better suited to handle this one."

"Yeah, alright." As he stood he glanced down at Sara, "You let me know when the tox screen comes back?"

"Um hum."

Nick watched Warrick leave the room, still worried about his friend. "It was her nieces car, right?" he asked, slipping down into the chair Warrick had just vacated.

"Yeah. A huh…" she checked the police report from the file Warrick had been reading. "A 2005 Camry."

"There shouldn't be any mechanical problems on anything that new."

"The niece drove in from Wyoming…could have been a slow leaking tire, Carly lost just control."

"Is the car here yet?"

"Yeah, Brass called a few minutes ago, tow truck just dropped it off." Sara looked up from the water bottle, her brown knitted, wondering what it was he was thinking.

"I'll go check it out." He stood from the chair and took one step toward the door before turning back around to face her again, a grin spread across his face "Unless of course, you need some help."

Sara's eyes could have shot arrows as she stared at him. "Didn't think so." Nick teased and turned back around, headed for the lab's garage.

* * *

Jim Brass, Capitan in the Las Vegas PD wasn't sure what to make of the man sitting on the other side of his desk. In his years on the force, he'd seen surviving spouses, both guilty and innocent, in tears, in shock, and even indifferent. His gut was telling him there was something wrong with this picture, he just couldn't figure out what it was.

Tommy Bryans sat with his hands folded neatly in his lap, the creases in his pants, the freshness of the unwrinkled shirt let Brass know the grieving husband had changed clothes not long ago. And the whiff of cologne told him the other man had shaved and showered in between learning of his wife's death and coming to the police station to discuss the accident.

"I don't know what more I can tell you." Tommy tugged at the cuff of his shirt, pulling it out from the suit jacket sleeve. "Carly and I spoke after her concert… she was tired, so I sent her home while I stayed at the theatre to finish up."

"Finish up…what?" Brass asked, leaning into the desktop.

Tommy smiled as if speaking to a small child. "Business."

Brass's eyes narrowed at the slight, but he kept his tone light. "How were you going to get home?"

"I caught a ride with one of the back up singers."

"Which one?"

Sighing deeply, Tommy pulled a face, the only true emotion he'd shown since Brass had met him. "What could that possibly matter?"

"Call it curiosity." Brass said simply and shrugged.

"Jill Johansen." Tommy told him reluctantly.

"What time did you get there?"

"Around three."

"Late night." Brass said narrowing his eyes at the quick flicker of something in Tommy's own eyes.

"I had quite a bit of … _business_ to do." The flick of surprise with a trace of fear in his eyes was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cool demeanor the captain had come to know so well.

"Business with … what was her name? Jill?" He let a devious man-to-man tone underlie his words.

"I resent that." And his voice reflected the resentment, Brass thought. Actual emotion from the tin man.

"I bet Carly did too."

Tommy stood up quickly and jerked at the lapels of his suit jacket, a gesture of disgust. "I won't be privy to these accusations. If you wish to speak to me further, you can do so through my lawyer." Turning on his heel, he left the room, letting the office door slam behind him.

Brass brought his coffee cup to his lips, sipping slowly, wondering if it was the girlfriend or the wife that had finally evoked some emotion.

* * *

"I still can't believe it." Ginger James rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes. Grissom, sat across the table from her, wondering why he didn't have the forethought to bring a box of tissue in with him. 

"We understand this is hard, but if you could try and answer our questions, it'll help us figure out what happened that much sooner.

Ginger sniffled and nodded her head. Grissom opened his mouth to begin, when the click of the door opening stopped him. He turned, grateful to find Catherine walking in, Warrick right behind her. Questioning suspects he could handle, a crying girl was just a little too much for him.

"Ginger, this is Catherine Willows and Warrick Brown, they're also with the crime lab."

"Warrick Brown?" Gingers bright blue eyes shimmering with tears, found Warrick's and locked. "She used to talk about you all the time, she was so excited about seeing you again." A fresh flood of tears threatened, but Ginger held them back with another sniffle.

Warrick, not knowing what to say, and feeling his own threat of tears as a lump in his throat, only nodded.

"Ginger." Catherine got the girls attention as she slipped in the chair across from the young woman. "When did you get to Vegas?"

"Yesterday afternoon. I drove in from Wyoming."

"For the concert?"

"No. I ah… my grandma died a few months ago, just before I graduated, and I've been having problems with my boyfriend, Aunt Carly just thought it'd be a good change for me, to come up and live with her."

Out of the corner of her eye, Catherine saw Warrick raise his chin; his stare went from sympathetic to confusion. Without knowing what it was that had raised his reservations, she continued with the interview. "So you got in yesterday…"

"I went to the theatre, saw Carly for a few minutes, told her I was here. She had her driver take me to her house. Aunt Carly said it'd be easier that way, rather than me trying to find the house, and that she'd take my car home that night, after the concert." The memory of her aunt's final act of generosity broke the boundary and fresh tears flowed.

The CSI's let her cry for a few moments; Catherine took that time to study her friend sitting next to her. The confusion hadn't left Warrick's expression, and she took advantage of his far away stare to watch him, trying to figure out what it was the girl had said that bristled him.

"Ginger, have you called your parents, told them about Carly's death?" Warrick asked, his voice rushed, if Catherine hadn't known better, she'd have sworn he was interrogating a suspect, trying to catch a lie.

The girl shook her head; unruly curls bobbing with the motion. She wiped her nose with a crumpled tissue and starred at the tabletop for a moment. "My parents died when I was a baby. Car accident, my grandma and Aunt Carly raised me." With this answer, Warrick sunk into the back of his chair, his body language saying 'gotcha'.

"What about Carly's husband?" Grissom asked, trying to move the interview on.

"What about him?" Ginger asked, touching the tissue to the corner of each eye.

"What'd he think of your staying in the house?"

She shook her head. "I don't think he liked it. He's never been very friendly to me, and it's gotten worse since I got pregnant. Like when… this morning, when, he told me about Aunt Carly…he just said it, he didn't ease into it, or break it gently, he just said it. 'Your Aunt is dead, get dressed' I just didn't know what to do …" Ginger sobbed out in a rocky voice. Her face grew suddenly pale and she brought her fingers up to her lips and looked at Catherine with a frightened stare. Mumbling around her fingers, she said "I'm gonna - where's the …"

"Down the hall on the right." Catherine raised her arm and pointed to the right of the door. Ginger stood up quickly and rushed out of the room. Catherine watched the girl and debated going after her, her gaze shifting from Ginger's disappearing back to Warrick's face. "What?"

He turned his head slowly, and met her stare head on; Catherine saw something close to hatred in his blue eyes. "She's not Carly's niece. It's impossible."

Confusion clouded Catherine's features, and she squinted at him. "Why is it impossible?"

"Because, Carly was an only child, there was no brother or sister to have died in a car accident."


	4. Chapter 4

Warrick left the interrogation room and headed for the lab's garage, not seeing the point of sitting around, listening to more lies. He needed to get up, to move anyway, to be an active part of the investigation, not the passive role of interviewing. What the hell had Carly gotten mixed up in? A husband who didn't seem to love her, and a so called niece, who knows what kind of lies that girl had fed to her, wrangling herself in to Carly's life. Why had he left last night before he got to really talk to her? He hadn't liked the possessive way Tommy Bryans had treated her, as if Carly was a money making machine rather than his wife, nearly dragging her away. He was pissed at himself for not making Carly talk to him right then, when he had her in front of him. His blood was pounding in his ears. Stopping at the water fountain nestled in the wall, he sipped the cool water, the coldness running down his throat and hitting his empty stomach with a frozen thump. He cupped his left hand underneath the stream, letting the water pool in his palm, then splashed the water onto his face.

_"Stay here, I'll get you a towel." Carly laughed and ran to the back of the house, leaving a soaking wet Warrick dripping just inside the front door. He wiped his hand down his wet face, and wondered if it did any good, or if he'd deposited more water than he'd removed. The rustling of Carly's dressed announced her reappearance before she appeared from the darkened hallway, a fresh flood of laughter escaping when she caught sight of him. _

_"It's really not funny." He playfully scolded her, taking the towel and drying his face._

"_I'm sorry. You just look…you look like a wet penguin." Moving behind him, she tugged the tuxedo jacket off of him. "Oh, it's worse than I thought" she murmured, seeing the soggy wet white dress shirt that clung to the skin on his back. "Come on," she grabbed his hand and led him down the hall. "You can wear my mom's robe while this thing dries." _

"_I really don't want your mom to see me wearing her robe." Warrick protested. "Especially when I tell her I left her umbrella at the prom." _

"_She's working the graveyard shift at the diner. Traded so she could be home with me this afternoon." Carly steered him to the left, depositing him into the bathroom, off the hallway carpet. Her mothers bedroom was just two steps across the short hallway, and she disappeared into the room, coming back a moment later with a light pink silky robe, with a lace collar. Warrick took the garment from Carly's outstretched hand, holding it between his thumb and index finger. He looked at it. Then he looked at Carly. "You'll catch pneumonia if you stay in that wet tux." Acquiescing, Warrick took a step backwards, further into the bathroom and shut the door to change._

_By the time he'd slugged out of the wet clothes, draped them as neatly as he could over the shower door, and talked his self in to the robe, a screaming whistle intruded through the quiet house. Warrick followed the noise into the kitchen to find Carly pouring hot water into large blue mugs, a tea bag string hung over the side of each cup. She'd changed out of her dress, and now wore a pair of dark blue leggings and a white t-shirt, about three sizes to large. The high-heels were gone, and she padded around the kitchen in bare feet. Her hair was still piled up in the prom perfect do, and was a stark contrast to the unfussy clothes, a contrast that Warrick found endearing._

_Looking up when she heard him, she took in the sight of her tall lanky friend wearing a frilly, somewhat flimsily pink robe, his hands clutching the material closed in the two most important places. She began to laugh again._

_He let her laugh for a minute, before releasing his death grip of the robe where he held it at his chest and held up his index finger "Not a word of this at school."_

_She crossed her heart and held up the hand, oath like, "Promise."_

_Handing him his tea, she passed him and made her way into the living room, beginning the rehash of the evening._

In the lab hallway, Warrick slammed his right fist into his left palm, at the same time two dayshift CSI's turned the corner, headed toward him, they caught the pumped fist and immediately began to back away. For the first time since leaving the interrogation room, Warrick took stock of himself. His shoulders were tight and hunched up, every muscle in his body screamed _pissed off_. Add in the scowl he knew he was wearing, and the punch into his own hand, he supposed he'd back away from him too. Consciously forcing his shoulders to relax, he strode past the other CSI's, gave them a sociable nod and continued on down the hall toward the garage.

* * *

Behind him, in the interrogation room, Grissom broke the silence left by Warrick's statement and departure, "So who is she?" he asked, referring to Ginger.

Catherine, working on nothing but instinct, tucked her head for just a moment, before looking at Grissom. "I don't know, but I have an idea." She stood up, and leaned back over the chair she had been sitting in. "Get a cheek swab for me, would ya?"

Gil lifted his chin, realization swimming into his eyes. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

With a shrug of one shoulder Catherine said, "Only one way to find out." And she swept out of the room.

* * *

When Warrick walked into the garage, he found Nick standing near the headlights on the passenger side, lifting the tent of plastic off the car, waving away the fog of fumigant drifting out. Although it was obvious, Warrick still asked, "You fumed the whole car?"

Nick nodded, still staring at the bank of fumigant lifting out from under the plastic, his face serious, all of his attention at the task at hand.

Stepping to the driver's side of the car, Warrick lifted the corner of the tarp, the part that covered the hood. "Want some help?"

"Yeah." Together, the two men pulled the giant sheet of plastic off the Camry, folding it over itself until they reached the trunk, tossing the tarp on to the ground. "You want the outside or in?" Nick asked, and the look Warrick gave him answered his question. "Dumb question, I guess."

"Yeah." Warrick let out in a breathy humorless snort. He took the two steps back up to the driver's side door and opened it with a yank. Nick started with the trunk, going over each inch of the metal with his flashlight, looking for any fingerprints the fumes had attached to and made prominent.

Warrick used his own flashlight, searching the driver's seat, drops of Carly's blood showed in the flashlight beam, long since dried, he could see the trench in each drop that Sara's swab had made when she took samples at the scene. Pulling himself out from the car, he closed his eyes, and stretched his neck, rolling it back and forth, then with a deep breath, he slid into the drivers seat.

Nick opened the door on the passenger's side, sticking his head inside. "You find anything?"

Warrick stared at the steering wheel for a moment before answering. Several pale gray fingerprints dotted the top of the circle. "Yeah. Lots of prints. Smudges mostly."

"Here." Nick handed Warrick a cluster of tape lifts.

"Thanks" Warrick muttered taking them and placed all but one in his lap. Peeling the plastic-like tape off the first card, he pressed the sticky side down on to the visible fingerprint, the oils from the skin adhered to the tape, and then to the card when the tape was pressed back down.

"Does the engine turn over?" Nick asked nodding toward the ignition and the set of keys dangling from it. Warrick turned the switch; the engine made a gurgling sound, and didn't turn over, but the battery still worked. The headlights turned on, splashing their beams against the wall of the garage, the dashboard lights sprang on, and the radio began to play.

"_Lady in red is dancing with me"_ the music filled the car.

"That's an old one." Nick said, backing himself out of the passenger door.

"Yeah. It is." Warrick replied sadly, and turned off the ignition switch.

Grabbing the short trolley that was leaning against the wall, Nick tossed it to the ground, and lowered himself on to it, face up, and pulled himself under the car. After a moment, Warrick heard his friends muffled voice. "Axels broken."

"That could have happened in the crash."

"Yeah it could have" Nick pushed himself out from under the engine and stood up, looking at Warrick through the windshield. "Or, it could be sabotage. Maybe it wasn't Carly who was supposed to die."


	5. Chapter 5

Warrick pushed through the door to the interrogation room with the power of a hurricane, the door nearly bouncing off the wall behind it. Grissom had moved around to the other side, and was patting the hand of the crying girl. Ginger's head hung, her chin on her chest, until the force behind Warrick's entrance startled her and she looked up with red glistening eyes.

"What kind of problems were you having with your boyfriend?" Warrick didn't sit down; he stood over the girl, hoping he could intimidate her into finally telling the truth.

"What?" Ginger asked, confusion replacing the grief in her eyes.

"Your boyfriend. You said you were having problems. What kind of problems?"

Grissom was fascinated in spite of himself. He glanced back and forth, like watching a tennis match, between the CSI and the girl who seemed to have turned into a suspect. He moved his hand away.

"I ummm.." Ginger began, and Warrick's eyes narrowed at the pause, suspicious she was thinking up another lie. "I'm pregnant. Peter wanted me to stay and marry him, but I didn't want to, and when Aunt Carly offered me a place to stay and have the baby, Peter wasn't very happy."

"What's his last name?"

"Peter?"

"Yes."

"Wellesley. Peter Wellesley."

Reaching for the pad and pen on the table in front of Grissom, Warrick slid it over in front of her. "Write down his address."

Ginger looked over to Grissom, seeming to hope for a reprieve, or maybe just an explanation. Grissom merely shrugged, putting his faith in Warrick. "Please" he said.



"How 'bout some Blue Hawaiian?" Catherine's words stopped Warrick in his tracks, turned half way around, on his way back out of the doorway. He'd walked in, seconds earlier, hoping to find some peace and quiet, and upon seeing Catherine sitting alone at the table, a crime lab mug nestled in between her hands like she was trying to keep them warm, he turned to leave, but not quickly enough. "Come on Warrick, keep me company for a few minutes."

With the sigh of a man who knows he has no choice, Warrick turned back around, and entered the room.

Catherine watched her friend with the trained eyes of a CSI, experienced mother, and concerned friend as he shuffled to the coffee pot and fixed his own cup. He turned toward the table, and set the mug down before he slid into the chair opposite her, then stared into the hot liquid. If he felt her eyes on him, he didn't let on.

"Tell me about her." Catherine said quietly.

Warrick looked up suddenly, his eyes wide, as if he'd gotten so lost in the swirls of coffee; he had forgotten she was in the room with him. "Carly?"

"Yes, Carly." She smiled gently and ran her finger around the rim of the mug. "What was she like?"

"Well, you met her."

Catherine dismissed his comment with a shake of her head. "Not really. Tell me."

"Well…" He gave her a one-shouldered shrug. "I hadn't seen her since…" He added up the years in his head as he spoke "high school. Twenty years." He let out a breath through pursed lips, realizing how long ago high school had been, beginning to feel his own mortality.

Catherine gave him an encouraging smile, knowing how he felt; every birthday Lindsay had caused the same feelings in her.

"She was smart, talented." Warrick continued, finally answering her question. His gaze slipped away from Catherine's eyes as he buried himself deeper in the memories. "Her dad passed away when she was two, her mom raised her alone, working in this dive of a diner." His eyes began to sparkle, and he sat up straighter in the chair, eager to share his thoughts. "Christmas concerts…man, when she sang _O Night Divine_, it was so sweet, people cried."

"Did she have a crush on you too?"

He blinked, taken aback by the question as much as the interruption of his thoughts. "What?"

"Oh, come on Warrick." She gave him a lop sided grin. "You liked her. Did she like you too?"

"I told you…"

"You told me you didn't date her."

"Yes."

"Doesn't mean you didn't want to" the grin slipped away from her lips.

He shrugged, reluctant to share the memory that had suddenly become so very bitter sweet. "We, ah… went to the prom." Catherine sat slowly back in the chair, knowing not to interrupt this time. "and afterward, I took her home. Her mom was at work." Warrick rubbed his chin, his fingers scratching against the stubble; he paused, hoping he could get out of having to answer the question, or at least find better words to answer it. "Yeah" he finally gave in, and looked away from Catherine's gaze. "We…we…yeah." He shrugged again. "A few weeks later we graduated, and I started working over the summer, we kind of lost touch and by the time I started LVU that fall, I heard she and her mother had moved to Cheyenne. Then, about ten years ago, I saw her CD in the store, bought it, listened to it all night."

"First love." Catherine whispered.

Warrick smiled sadly and let out a breathy snort.

"Hey!" Jim Brass walked in, unaware of the tension threading through the air, and cut off any further trips down memory lane. Warrick breathed a sigh of relief.

"The Cheyenne cops find the boyfriend?"

"Nope." Brass ignored Warrick's narrowing eyes and quick frown as he walked briskly to the coffee pot. Turning around a moment later, a teasing smile on his lips, and he finished his explanation. "They went to the address the niece gave you, no one home." He blew on the coffee,took a sip. "Ah, one good thing about Sanders, good coffee."

"The boyfriend, Brass?"

"Yeah, yeah, just getting to it. We ran his credit cards, he's registered at a flea bag motel couple miles from the strip. Uniforms brought him a few minutes ago." Taking another sip, he watched Warrick over the brim of his cup as the CSI stood from the chair.

Warrick grabbed his own coffee, took a slug and looked quickly at Catherine. "You coming?"

Her pager went off, as if in answer. She grabbed it, checking the screen and shook her head. "You go ahead, got something else I need to check on."

"Let's go." Warrick said to Captain Brass.



Peter Wellesley was sitting in the interrogation room with his hands folded on the tabletop, his forehead resting on the back of his hands, and when Warrick burst into the room, he sat up, bolted up, straight in the chair, and began talking even before Brass crossed the threshold and shut the door.

"Please" he pleaded with Warrick "Please, I don't know why I'm here. I really have to find my girlfriend, she's carrying my baby, please, I just want to find her."

Warrick held up a hand, palm forward, like a policeman directing traffic to stop. Peter stopped talking, falling into a reluctant silence. Brass and Warrick exchanged glances, Warrick's annoyed, Brass' amused. The CSI pulled out the chair opposite Peter and flipped it around before he sat. Brass nestled himself into the next chair, and leaned himself into the table, thinking that he and Warrick made an imposing pair.

Warrick badly wanted to lead the questioning, but knew with no evidence he had to let Brass control the conversation. Peter's eyes slid back and forth, confused and wondering. Finally, after a moment of letting him stew, Brass began.

"Boy or girl?" He asked conversationally.

"What?" Peter's confusion grew.

"The baby. Boy or girl?"

"Ah" he licked his lips. "Don't know yet, to early to tell."

"Bet you hate the idea of your kid being raised in the 'Sin City'" Brass made quote marks in the air with his fingers. "Especially without you around."

"I…" the words he was about to say stopped in his throat, with just a tick of Brass' eyebrow. "I didn't like the idea."

"So you followed Ginger to Vegas, and when you saw her leave the theatre in the limo, you realized Carly would be driving the Camry." He paused for effect. "So you tampered with the car. With no aunt to take care of her and the baby, Ginger was sure to come running back to you."

Peter was shaking his head vigorously. "NO!"

"Oh, ok, so you meant to kill Ginger, Carly was just an…accident."

The head was still shaking, "No, no, no. I didn't do anything!"

Warrick's heart was pounding, and his mouth tasted of iron. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, fighting the urge to reach across the table, grab Peter by his collar and pummel him until he was as broken as Carly's body.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brass saw the rapid movements of Warrick's hands, and knew he had to get one of the two men out of the room in the next few minutes.

"I haven't seen Ginger since day before yesterday, and I haven't seen Carly since Christmas." Peter carried on, oblivious to the possible danger to his health. "I never really knew what I was going to do when I got here, and I had no idea where to find Ginger. I tried to get tickets to the concert, but it was sold out, and I can't afford what the scalpers wanted. I checked into the room."

"You didn't eat? Place like that, even if they did have room service, you wouldn't want to eat it." Brass smirked at his own joke.

Peter's face brightened, not for the joke, but for the idea. "Yes, yes I did." He suddenly became sheepish, "I hadn't been to Vegas before …"

"So you tired your hand at gambling." Brass guessed.

"A little, yeah. Mostly I just walked around, looking at everything."

"For how long?"

"Few hours. Dunno."

"What casino?"

"Mirage. I thought it sounded romantic." Peter looked at the tabletop when he admitted that last part, unable to meet the eyes of the other two men.

"Alright." Brass stood up and pointed to Peter "You. Stay here." Moving his hand toward Warrick, he said "You. Come with me."

Warrick blinked, and glanced at the captain, who gave him a slight tick of his head, "Come on."

In the hall, Warrick had cooled off enough to think. "I'll check with Mirage security, check the surveillance."

Brass nodded "Good idea."


	6. Chapter 6



Dr. Al Robbins stared at the face of the dead singer for a moment before gently pulling the white sheet up, letting it fall over Carly's face. If the woman hadn't been a friend of Warrick's, he would have taken that moment to snap a photo, adding it to his collection of pictures of famous people who had died in Vegas and wound up on his table. Out of respect for his friend the CSI, he let this opportunity pass, and pushed Carly into one of the refrigerated cubbyholes that lined the wall of his morgue. Shutting the latch tightly, he slipped an identifying card into the slot on the outside of the door, giving the dead body the name Celia Walker, just in case any of his co-workers weren't as scrupulous as he was and snuck down to take a picture.

"Hey Doc" Catherine came though the door of the morgue.

"Catherine." Robbins returned the greeting, "You got my page I see."

"You determined Carly's cause of death?"

"There was massive trauma to the internal organs; her ribs were broken, puncturing both lungs." As he spoke, he walked past Catherine to his desk, steadying himself on his metal crutches. After pausing a moment to ease himself into the chair, and prop his crutches against the desk, he continued. "But that's not what killed her."

Catherine cocked an eyebrow at the revelation. "It's not?"

"Nope. She fell asleep."

"Well, pending an examination of the vehicle, that was one working assumption of the cause of the accident…" Catherine began.

"You're not listening to me." Robbins interrupted her. "I've determined that she did indeed fall asleep at the wheel, that was the cause of the accident, not her death. The lab identified the prescription sleeping aid in her stomach contents, specifically, Zoipidem, the brand Ambien. Based on the report" he picked up a brown folder from his desk "which says the only other substance in her stomach was water, no trace of the capsules, the dissolvable coating, it's my guess that someone put the medication into her water. I checked the report on the evidence found in the car, there was a water bottle listed. She would have begun to feel the effects in ten, fifteen minutes, if she started sipping as she left the parking lot after the concert, timing seems about right."

"How much was in her system?"

"Hard to say for certain, with out the capsules." He read the report in his hands again, "Best educated guess is 40 milligrams, or four times the recommended dose."

Catherine's mouth fell into an open 'o' shape in her surprise. "Ah…Ok." Regaining her thoughts, she remembered the other thing she'd come to the morgue for. "Doc, did you happen to do a pelvic exam on her?"

It was the doctor's turn to look surprised. "No. Why would that be necessary?"

"Just a hunch I have. I need you to do one. There's something I need to know."



"He just didn't do it." Archie said, a hint of regret in his voice. Half a step behind Warrick as the two of them walked into the break room. "If the car was tampered with, during the concert, then Peter couldn't have done it."

"You're sure?" Warrick didn't like double checking Archie, he knew the a/v tech was one of the best, but he just couldn't help himself.

Archie almost pulled a face, but reminded himself in time how personal this case was to Warrick. He hid his expression as he sat down at the table. "Yes, I'm sure. Video surveillance has him at the Mirage he walked in at 9:17 last night, and didn't leave until after midnight."

"Carly was already dead by then."

"Hey." Nick walked in, holding several folders in one hand, hanging down at his side. He brought the hand up, almost shaking the folders at Warrick. "Damage to the car wasn't deliberate, it happened with the crash."

"You're sure?" Warrick asked again, before he could help it. Nick blinked, and glanced at Archie, who shrugged in return. Warrick caught the exchange between his two friends. "Sorry. Of course your sure." He sunk into the sofa against the wall, and brought his hands up to his face, wishing the cushions would engulf him, drag him into its softness, muffling out everything in the outside world. He'd never been so tired.

"It's alright man. I understand." Nick said more gently than he'd intended. He tossed the reports onto the table, then plopped himself down in the chair next to Archie. Stretching, he lifted his arms high above and behind his head and felt the vertebra crack one by one.

"You're gonna need a chiropractor if you keep that up." Sara walked in, empty coffee mug in hand, and headed directly to the coffee pot.

"Nope. That's why I do it, so I _don't_ need a chiropractor." He beamed a thousand watt smile at her.

"Hey, Sar" Warrick pulled his hands away from his face and met her eyes as she turned around, stirring the coffee. "what've you found in the evidence from the car?"

"Not much for the context of what we have so far…"

_Which is nothing_ Warrick thought to himself.

"But there was a bottle of water in the cup holder. "I also dusted the bottle, found Carly's prints, and prints that came up as a Susan Renwald, she's in the system for a shoplifting charge years ago. Gave it to Brass, he's chasing her. The bottle was almost empty, but I sent a sample to trace, just in case." Nick and Archie both grinned at the unintended rhyme. Sara seemed not to notice.

"I can tell you what they'll find in the water." Catherine walked in, and slid into the chair at the head of the table. Sara hadn't intended on staying, but changed her plans, and settled herself in to the chair next to Nick. "Zoipidem, name brand Ambien, probably about forty milligrams."

"Ambien?" Warrick asked.

Catherine nodded after taking a moment to analyze Warrick's face herself. "Sleeping pills. She fell asleep at the wheel. Doc Robbins says only water and the drug were in her stomach, and it would have put her to sleep, killed her, in about fifteen minutes."

"Scene of the accident is about fifteen, twenty minutes from the theatre." Nick remarked, recalling his own drive home the night before, he'd passed what was to become an accident site, then a shrine to the dead singer.

Agreeing with Nick, Catherine went on. "So, we can assume that whoever spiked the water, gave the bottle to Carly just before she left the theatre."

Sara didn't like having to say what she was about to say, but it was her job, and she was going to do it. But she couldn't seem bring herself to look at Warrick while she said it, so she focused on the empty chair across from her. "Are we sure it wasn't suicide?"

Warrick grunted under his breath and stood quickly, walking around the table to the counter, grabbed a clean cup, and poured some sugar into it. Sara watched him; the muscles in his back and neck rigid, she moved her eyes, not wanting to see the effect her words had on him.

Nick made a face, his doubt and disagreement evident. "Not likely." He gestured around the room with his hand. "We all met her, I mean, I didn't get the impression she was depressed or suicidal."

Catherine shook her head, considering Sara's question. "And if she was planning on killing herself, she wouldn't get behind the wheel of a car and risk the possibility of hurting others."

Grissom walked in, hearing only the last part of Catherine's sentence. "I take it we have a cause of death?" He slipped into the chair next to Catherine, and as he did, she slid Doc Robbins report across the table until it rested in front of him. He glanced at it, then up to Catherine. "Sleeping pills?" She shrugged, and Grissom began to read further, flipping a page, losing his self in the findings.

"Rick?" Sara's voice was cautious, as if trying to gently wake an irritable tiger. His back was to her, his attention focused on the mound of sugar at the bottom of his coffee cup. Two muscles in his neck jumped, the only sign he'd heard his name. She saw a bit of shake of his head, just before he reached for the pot of coffee and refilled the mug, dissolving the sweet crystals. He didn't answer Sara, only sipped from his mug as he made his way around the table and back into the sofa.

"You've got the DNA comparison running already?" Grissom looked up from the report, and Catherine wondered if that was surprise or admiration on his face.

"Well..." Catherine began, and paused to choose her words wisely. "Considering the circumstances…"

"What DNA comparison?" Warrick asked, the life returning to his voice.

Catherine and Gil looked at each other; like parents on the verge of breaking the news about Santa. Grissom arched an eyebrow, as if to say _He's going to hear it sooner or later_. Catherine cleared her throat subtly, and looked Warrick straight in the eye. "Well, it was your suspicion of the niece. I had Robbins do a pelvic examine on Carly's body." She paused another moment, letting her words sink into Warrick skin. "There's evidence of carrying a child and giving birth."

"So the niece is the daughter?" Sara asked.

Catherine shrugged, "Only time, and the DNA test, will tell."

"Timing has always been one of my strong suits." Mia said, walking in, and placing herself at the closest corner of the table, between Grissom and Catherine. She held a mud-brown folder in her fingers, and seemed hesitant on which of the supervisors to hand it to. Catherine solved her dilemma by holding out her hand. Mia gave her the folder, and proceeded to share the results with the rest of the room. "DNA's a match, 7 out of 13 in common, younger female donor is the daughter of older female donor."

"Ok, thanks Mia." Catherine glanced down the table to Archie, who took the hint.

"I'd better get back to work too."

After waiting for Mia and Archie to leave the room, Catherine explained to the group, "I deliberately left the names off the samples, had her run a blind comparison."

Warrick jumped up from the couch and stopped himself short of ripping the report out of Catherine's hands. "Ginger is Carly's daughter?"

Catherine raised her eyebrows as Warrick towered over her. "Looks like." Catherine studied the face of her friend, her co-worker, as a variety of emotions flicked though his expression like the lights of a Christmas tree. She glanced toward Sara and Nick who were also watching Warrick's face. Nick was already gathering his things. "Uh, guys, give us a minute."

"Yeah." Nick agreed, "Com'on Sar, I'll…" he was about to say _buy you a cup of coffee_ until it occurred to him it was the break room they needed to vacate. He let the end of the sentence hang in the air, and followed Sara out of the room and into the hall. The two of them stopped several feet from the door, to confer with each other, gather their thoughts. Instead, they watched as Mia, halfway down the corridor, stood next to a young woman with unruly dark blonde hair. The young woman's hands were clenched together in front of her, and to Sara it looked like she was literally trying to hold everything together. They watched as Mia glanced around, twisting her body first one way, then another before spotting them and pointing, saying something to the girl as she did. Kinky curls bounced around the younger woman's face, deceptively giving her a playful look, as she turned her head toward them, following Mia's still outstretched arm. Glancing back briefly to Mia, probably thanking her for her help, Sara guessed, the two CSI's watched the girl as she approached them, her hands still clenched together in front of her, slightly throwing off her walk, giving her the vague appearance of a penguin.

"Excuse me?" she asked, still a few feet away. "The lady said you might be able to help me." She tossed her fingers back over her shoulder, pointing to where Mia had just been.

"Yes ma'am, what can we do for you?" Nick asked, startled by the brightness of the girls blue eyes.

"I was looking for Mr. Grissom….he asked me to wait, but I don't know how much longer I can hold myself together."

"Are you Ginger?" Sara asked.

"Yes, Ginger James, my aunt…" she brought one of the clenched fists up to her mouth, and Sara saw a ratted tissue clasped in her fingers. Slow trickles of tears wound down her face, and Sara was impressed at how well the girl was keeping it together, at least on the outside.

Nick and Sara exchanged a glance; neither was about to tell this girl the truth they had just learned. Nick reached for Gingers shoulder and gently steered her back around. "Grissom will just be a few more minutes. Why don't we go back, and wait." He let Ginger slip away from his grasp as she headed back down the hall; he hung back a few steps, and traded another glance with Sara. "Did you see…?"

"Her eyes? Yeah, I did."

"Just like…"

"Yeah, they are."


	7. Chapter 7

"Warrick." Catherine's voice was quiet, the voice she used when she had to wake Lindsay on the first day of school each year.

"I know." He said, his eyes not leaving the report. They didn't move at all, no back and forth motion showing her he was actually reading the words, just a blank stare.

"Ginger's seventeen."

"I know." He said again, his voice growing more impatient.

"What--" Grissom began, and stopped when Catherine held up a hand.

"Warrick…" Catherine tried again.

"I know, Cath, I know." He slammed the folder down on to the tabletop. "I know how old she is, I know how long ago my prom was…I know…I know..." He was suddenly deflated, as if the outburst used all the air in his body, and dragged himself the few steps back to the couch, sinking back into the cushions, and covered his face with his hands. "I know…" he said, his fingers muffling his words.

Grissom watched for a moment, and counted Warrick's breaths, as the younger CSI's back heaved up and down, quickly at first, then Grissom could see all of Warrick's muscles flex as he fought to regain control. Cocking an eyebrow, Gris looked at Catherine, her hands had fallen to each side of the chair, fingers griping the seat, she was literally holding herself down; fighting her instincts, knowing that as much as she wanted to comfort him, coddling was the last thing Warrick would want right now.

"Warrick" Grissom began slowly. "Why would Carly lie to her daughter?" His words may have been directed at the man on the couch, but his eyes were still looking at the mother sitting next to him.

Catherine's brow narrowed, as she considered the question. Reconsidered the question, she'd been asking herself the same thing since the idea that Ginger might be Carly's daughter first occurred to her. After a moments thought, she shrugged, simultaneously, Warrick mumbled, "I don't know."

Frustrated with questions that could never be answered, Grissom sighed loudly.

* * *

"What should we do?" Sara asked Nick, raising her eyes to his reflecting back at her. They had guided Ginger back into the interrogation room, not knowing where else to put her, and after bringing her a glass of water and a freshly opened box of tissue, they left her alone again, only to slip into the next door down, into the observation room, to, well, observe.

Nick took a moment before answering, crossed his arms over his chest, heaved a sigh and considered the question, watching Ginger sip from the glass, swallowing tears along with the water. His face brightened, "I've got an idea." Sara knew what he was thinking, but before she could stop him, the observation room door was closing behind him.

"This is either the most brilliant thing he's ever done," Sara watched the grieving girl on the other side of the glass, "or the dumbest" she muttered to her reflection. A moment later, she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth as the door to the interrogation room opened, and Nick stuck his head in.

The volume was turned off, and Sara didn't bother to turn it on, preferring instead, to watch the events almost as if a silent movie. Nick said just a few words, then opened the door further, allowing Peter room to step past him and into the room.

Ginger stood from the chair, her face a study in contradictions, her mouth drew into a tight line of annoyance, her eyes were wide with surprise. The stunned expression in her eyes became momentary confusion, then grateful joy and the tightly drawn mouth turned into a small grin, followed quickly by a wide smile. In what Sara guessed was probably an unconscious gesture, Gingers hands caressed her belly, the barely there bulge. Ginger broke into fresh tears; Peter crossed the short distance between them in two strides, and gathered her in his arms, her head coming just to his shoulder, as if they were designed to fit together. Nicks smile was bright, his eyes shining as he glanced toward the mirror, where he knew Sara was, and as the two young lovers dissolved into a world just their own, Peter murmuring over Gingers sobs, Nick shut the door giving them privacy.

A moment later, the door to the observation room opened, Sara was still watching the silent movie unfold in front of her. In the reflection, she saw Nick in the open doorway. "Come on" he said to her mirror image.

"Where to?" Sara asked, turning her back on the movie, like changing the channel.

"Concert hall. Let's see if we can find an empty pill bottle."

* * *

"No." Grissom's voice reached a level that was close to whispering, just barely audible. Catherine had the correct idea that Gil was keeping his temper in check. He leaned back in the chair behind his desk, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache that he knew was coming no matter his actions, and trying to understand the mind of the woman who stood on the other side of his desk, hands on hips, staring at him unbelieving that he wasn't willing to break the rules and run a DNA comparison that had nothing at all to do with the case at hand. It was bad enough she'd run the victims DNA against the girls, that Grissom could at least argue had a _little_ to do with the case, (after all, if she wasn't a niece, as Warrick had protested, then who was she? DNA was the only answer) but the girls paternity had nothing what so ever to do with it. And to use the lab for personal issues…well, Catherine of all people should know better.

"…it's as much my case as it is yours, and Warrick is my…" her familiar tirade broke though his thoughts, and Grissom held up his hand, cutting her off.

He was silent for a moment; the only sound was the buzz of the florescent lights overhead.

"Did you learn nothing from the Braun case?" His voice was still a controlled whisper.

"This is different, this-"

"How? How is it different Catherine?"

"Neither DNA sample is evidentiary… Ginger isn't a suspect…"

"Yes, she is."

Catherine starred at him for a moment, unbelieving. "You consider a seventeen year old pregnant girl a suspect?"

"You know as well as I do, anyone is capable of anything." Catherine opened her mouth but Gil cut her off before she had the chance to start in again. "No. And that's final."

Again, Catherine was silent, staring at him, taking deep breaths. "Fine." She turned on her heel and sauntered out of his office.

Grissom watched her leave, and rubbed the bridge of his nose again, knowing this wasn't the end of the conversation.


	8. Chapter 8

_a/n: Thank you, Navaer and Mma63 for your kind words._

_And special thanks to alwayswrite05 for the encouragement and thoughts._

_Warning: Shameless begging ahead: All reviews are appreciated, like raindrops in the desert. Com'on ya'll, let a girl know you're there._

* * *

"Hey, Brass is here." Nick pulled the crime lab SUV into a parking space next to the Capitan's' Taurus in the Stardust parking lot. In the passenger seat, Sara looked out the window down into the car, and found Brass sitting in the driver's seat speaking in to his radio. He glanced up when the shadow of the truck passed over him, blocking the Nevada sun, and upon seeing the CSI's cracked a grin and spoke into the radio once more before hanging it up and climbing out of the Taurus. He held Sara's door open for her as she hopped out and onto the ground.

"I was just calling in to have ya'll sent out. Low and behold, here you are."

"We aim to please." Sara gave him a wide smile, and walked to the back of the truck where Nick had already opened the tailgate and was pulling out the equipment they would need. He lifted his chin in greeting as Sara and Brass joined him. "Whatcha got?"

"Susan Renwald…" Brass began.

"The finger prints I found on the bottle of water?" Sara interjected.

Brass pointed a finger at her, "That's the one. She's the make-up artist."

"Well" Nick said as he slipped the camera strap around his neck "let's go talk to her."

None of the three of them had expected to actually find anyone there, they had all quietly assumed the theatre would be empty, expect maybe for a lone janitor who hadn't known Carly; everyone else would be home mourning.

Mourning, everyone was, but they had migrated to the theatre, to surround themselves with the people they had all come to think of as family, to grieve the loss of one of their own Gathered on the stage; musicians, back up singers, lighting guys, two stylists, a markup artist, seamstress and even a PR rep, among others had formed a quasi circle, some in chairs, the rest, sitting directly on the stage, and when the detective and two criminalists broke though the curtains and stepped onto the semi dark stage, the quiet chatter ceased. The seamstress wiped the back of her hand against her eyes. Two of the musicians, more familiar with officers of the law than they would ever admit, straightened up in their chairs, Brass could fairly see the alarms going off in their brains, on high alert.

The bass player, Danny Dugan, hefted himself from the stage floor, and approached the trio, sticking his hand out and introducing himself as he did.

After the introductions had been completed, Danny glanced behind him at the group who seemed to be watching with baited breath. Nick followed Danny's gaze, studying the group of roughly twenty people, wondering if one of them was a murderer. As the bass player turned back, and began a conversation with Brass, offering any help possible, Nicks eyes flicked to each face in the improvised audience, alighting on each for a brief moment before landing on a familiar one, the girl who'd winked at him backstage the other night. If he had been able to choose the circumstances for their second encounter, investigating a murder and questioning her as a possible suspect would have been on the bottom of the list. Try as he might, he couldn't get the vision of her bending over, picking up Carly's discarded towel then winking at him, out of his head.

"CSI Stokes will need to see Carly's dressing room."

His name rang though his ears, bringing Nick out of his stupor; he turned back to his co-workers to find Brass looking at him expectantly, with a small knowing smile. "Sorry, what?"

Carly's death had interrupted any plans Catherine had had to relentlessly tease Nick about the encounter she'd witnessed, so Sara had no idea what he'd been staring at. Brass too didn't know the story, but knew _exactly_ what had been going on in the younger man's mind. The captain raised his eyebrows, and his voice was full of humor when he said: "I was explaining to Mr. Dugan here that you would need to see Carly's dressing room. "

Nick cleared his throat, "Yeah, yes, I would."

Sara, still a little lost on the joke, interjected, "Brass and I'll stay here, talk to Susan."

Danny, confused, asked; "You don't want to talk to Barney?" His brow knitted in confusion.

Brass's expression mirrored Danny's, the puzzlement in his eyes as he traded glances with Sara.

"Who's Barney?" Sara asked, turning her gaze back to the musician.

"Barney Falade. He's the theatre manager." Brass took out his notebook, jotting down notes; Danny craned his neck, trying to get a look at what was being written.

"Why would you think we'd want to speak to Barney?" Brass asked looking up from the notebook, catching the bass player peeking.

"Well," Danny glanced away, toward the floor, embarrassed at being caught. "Barney and Tommy hated each other." Danny raised his head, meet Brass's eye. "Tommy raked Barney over the coals when it came to Carly's contract. Barney should have retired years ago, you know, Barney's brain isn't as sharp as it used to be, and Tommy took advantage of it during negotiations, then went around bragging 'bout how he milked the theatre for all it was worth."

"Why kill Carly not Tommy?"

Danny shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe 'casue Tommy ain't nothin' without Carly. Be more fun to watch the man squirm in obscurity than to just up and kill him. 'Sides…" he looked down at his feet again, and kicked some invisible dust. "with Carly the one being dead, he can get out of that contract, can't he?"

Sara and Brass traded glances, and with a twitch of her eyebrow, the captain knew they were thinking the same thing; _he's got a point. _

"Ok. We'll interview Mr. Falade, in the mean time; we need to talk to Susan."

"Susan?" Danny was confused again; it was a new name to him.

"Susan Renwald." Brass expanded.

"Yes?" A voice answered from the middle of the stage, the four of them turned at the sound. To Nick's chagrin, the raven haired beauty he couldn't get out of his mind stood up and approached the group. "I'm Susan."

Tommy Bryans stood in the lighting booth, at the back of the theatre, his arms crossed against his chest, he lifted his chin a little as he watched the goings on down on the stage. The booth door creaked, and he heard footsteps on the worn wood floor. She was behind him, beside him, her hand on his shoulder, and she too peered down at the stage. "Who are they? Cops?" Jill asked, her breath in his ear.

"The bald one is." Tommy considered the other man, and the woman, wearing black vests with white lettering. "The other two don't look like cops."

Down on the stage, Nick and Sara turned and followed Danny; Jill read the back of the Sara's vest. "Crime scene? Why would they be here?"

"Not sure." Tommy squinted trying to get a better look at the activities below.

"How'd you know that one is a cop?" Jill asked, fingering the back of Tommy's shirt collar.

He shrugged her off, irritated. "Because he's the one that drug me down to the station so he could accuse me of having affairs."

"Why'd you have to go down there to talk to the cops about Carly's accident?"

Tommy turned around to face her, the look on his face made her wonder if he thought she was stupid. Or lying.

After a moment's consideration, he shook his head and returned his gaze back to the stage.


	9. Chapter 9

_It's your own God damn fault. _Nick thought to himself, _always attracted to the girls who wind up suspects._

In his peripheral vision, Nick saw Sara sneak a look at him over her shoulder. "What's up?" he forced his voice to sound congenial, but didn't look at her, busying himself with tightening an already tight lid on the fingerprint powder.

Sara shook her head and shrugged. "You grunted. Thought you found something."

He knew she was waiting for an explanation, but didn't offer one, changing the subject instead. "Any luck with that?"

Carly's laptop had been sitting on a table in the corner. Sara had immediately sprung on it, poking at the keys with gloved fingers. "No luck, password locked." She snapped the laptop shut and slid it into a clear plastic bag. "Archie'll find something for us. But I did get her appointment book." Sara held up a squat black book that was stuffed to the brim and had corners of paper sticking out.

Nick made a noise of distraction as he bent to pick up the small trash can under the make up table. Sara watched him dig for a moment as she sealed the bag closed with evidence tape. Opening her mouth, to ask about the girl, Susan, who was at that very moment being interviewed by Brass, and was obviously the cause of Nick's foul mood, she watched as his actions stopped, his arms hovering inches over the edge of the trash can, his back muscles tense, and she could swear he was holding his breath.

"What'd you find?" She asked, anxiously, across the room and at his side even before the last syllable passed her lips.

Nick grabbed a pair of long tweezers from his kit and reached in to the trash can, pulling out an amber colored plastic pill bottle. Three white slashes of torn sticky paper were all that was left of the label. He twisted his wrist, looking at the new find from all sides, and moved it closer for Sara to inspect as well. "You see that?"

"Yeah" Sara said with sequestered excitement. "Are those…?"

Nick nodded "Teeth marks."

"And where there're teeth marks…"

"There's saliva."

* * *

Catherine stood at the reception desk, checking off the last box of a FedEx shipping form. Tearing off her copy and shoving it in her pants pocket, she slid the others into the allotted plastic slot and handed the padded square envelope to Judy behind the desk. "Make sure this goes out tonight please." _And don't let Grissom see it._ She cut herself off before she could utter the words that would rouse Judy's suspicion and could end her own career. 

"Sure" Judy smiled and glanced over the form, checking for anything that might hinder delivery. "Wow. FBI lab in Quantico. We don't do that very often."

Forcing herself to smile, Catherine answered "Big case" before she turned on her heel and headed down the hall to the break room.

A few hours before, just after her argument with Grissom, Catherine had been on the verge of drugging Warrick to make him sleep, when two things happened. First, she realized the morbid coincidence to her train of thought, and secondly, Warrick had somehow fallen asleep on his own. She'd stormed down the hall after leaving Grissom's office, headed toward the coffee and a few minutes of sitting quietly in her office when she's come across the soundly sleeping, lightly snoring Warrick on the break room couch. She'd tip-toed out of the room, almost cartoonishly, shutting the door softly behind her. And now, leaving Judy and a FedEx shipment that was sure to cause all hell to break loose, behind her, Catherine found herself at that same closed door.

It was odd to see the door closed, like seeing a house you've lived in for years empty when you move out. She opened the door; simultaneously removing the hand printed Do Not Disturb sign she'd taped up. The snoring was a little louder this time, and when she bent over him, he looked more peaceful than he'd had in she couldn't remember how long. Waking him was the last thing she wanted to do, but did anyway. "Warrick…" she whispered his name, lightly shaking his shoulder.

He woke quickly, as she'd known he would, staring up at her with wide, confused eyes, as if he thought he might still be asleep and dreaming. "Hey." His voice was honey thick with sleep.

"Hey yourself." Catherine smiled sweetly at him. "Want some coffee?"

"Yeah. Please." He swung his legs off the couch, putting his feet on the floor and looked at his watch. "Where's Ginger?"

Catherine, her back to him, smiled at the coffee cup as the liquid poured from the pot. She should have known Ginger would be his first priority. _Fatherly love_ she thought, then quickly admonished herself, _don't know that, yet._

"I sent her home a couple hours ago." She turned and started toward him, a coffee mug in each hand. "Peter went with her."

"Where's the case at?"

"Well…" she handed him a bright blue mug with the LVPD logo emblazoned in faded gold toned lettering. He took it with both hands, and blew on the hot liquid sending up a wave of steam. "Nick and Sara came back from the theater with Carly's appointment book, which she seemed to have treated as a lifeline, considering all the things she's got stashed in there, Sara's sorting through it now. They also found her laptop, which Archie is working on, and" she paused to make sure she had his attention "a prescription pill bottle of what turns out to be Ambien."

Coffee slashed over the rim of the cup, stinging the back of Warrick's hand, as he stood up quickly. Catherine held up a hand, pressing it against his shoulder, stopping him. "Hold on there." She waited a moment for him to calm down and recenter his focus. When she knew she had his attention, she continued. "Brass has Susan Renwald in the interrogation room, that girl who was flirting with Nicky the other night. Brought her in when they found the murder weapon in the trash can in the make-up room. Nick found teeth marks on the bottle, like someone had trouble with the child proof cap…"

"And used their teeth as leverage." Warrick finished for her.

"Right. Nick's swabbed the cap, and taking a mold of the impressions, but it won't do much good in IDing the killer, plastic gave easily, so there's no definite impressions."

"But there's DNA." He said, confirming.

She nodded. "Yep. Mia has it now."

"I could help Sara with the appointment book." Warrick offered, somewhat hopefully.

Catherine offered him half a smile, "Have a seat Warrick."

He held in a sigh of resignation and did as he was asked. She took a seat next to him on the couch, staring at the coffee cup in her hands as she decided on the words to use.

"I think you need to recuse yourself from the case."

"That's Gris talking."

"No." She told him, her firm supervisor voice underlying her words. "It's all me." She paused a moment, searching again for the right words. "When Eddie died…"

"When Eddie died you were all up Sara's ass." Warrick stood up abruptly. "You wanna take me off this case, then you're gonna have to order me." He stood over her, staring down at her, daring her to do it.

After a moment, she blinked, looked away. Knowing he'd won, he gave her a short nod and left the room.

* * *

"Tell me about Carly." Brass used his fatherly voice.

Gypsy/Susan picked a final piece of loose nail polish off her thumb nail and lifted her chin to look at Brass. He was sitting with his back to the mirror, so when she looked up, she caught her own reflection. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, and she'd left the house upon hearing the news of Carly's accident, sans makeup. She took in her own appearance in a quick glance, ran her tongue over her teeth, then asked, "What would you like to know?"

"Did you like working for her?"

She smiled for the first time in what felt like days. "Yeah. I really did." She went on, telling Brass short anecdotes. Behind the mirror, Nick stood with his arms folded across his chest, not really listening to the words, focusing his attention on her face as she spoke. Her eyes lit up when she spoke about Carly, her hands and fingers becoming animated, the sad smile on her face seemed genuine to him.

The door handle clicked, and Nick glanced to the reflected door just in time to see Warrick slide in. The two CSIs eyes met with the others reflection. Nick raised his chin a little in greeting. "Hey man."

"Hey." Warrick's voice was quiet as he approached the mirror and looked into the other room. "Oh, your girlfriend," he teased recognizing Gypsy.

Nick smiled wanly, shook his head. "Don't go there man."

"What's she saying?"

"Brass hasn't really asked her anything, I don't know if she realizes she's a suspect."

"Her fingerprints on the water bottle, empty pill bottle in her trash can…" Warrick listed the two major pieces of evidence they'd collected so far, both pointed to the girl in the next room being a murderer.

They listened in silence for a few minutes, each waiting for Brass to spring the question on the suspect. "Catherine wants me to recuse myself." Warrick stated simply, sounding like he didn't want Nick opinion, just wanted to get it off his chest, avoiding Nick's reflected gaze.

Not willing to take a side, Nick asked, "What'd you tell her?"

"I told her no."

Nick twitched a quick smile. "Ok then."

Brass's fatherly voice gained a touch of menace "So, Susan-"

"Gypsy." She corrected him.

He nodded, as if he agreed with her choice in changing her name. "Susan," he began again, deliberately, "why'd we find an empty pill bottle in your trash can at the makeup table?"

No one but the CSI's and a few of the detectives had been told Carly's true cause of death, everyone believed it was the car accident, so the mention of pills had no shocking effect on Gypsy's expression. She shrugged and shook her head at the same time, saying the words that Brass had heard so often, if he had a dime for each one, he could give Bill Gates a run for his money. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Carly didn't die from the accident. She was poisoned." He paused a moment, letting her mind get around that fact before he continued. "There were traces of sleeping pills in the water bottle she was drinking from, a bottle that had your fingerprints on it, and" she opened her mouth to protest, or perhaps explain, but he cut her off before she could utter a sound, "the empty pill bottle was found in the trash can at your make up table."

She was quiet, staring wide eyed, and Brass could literally see the weight of all that information sink into her as her body crumbled, dropping lower and lower in the chair. "We found traces of saliva, which means DNA, on the bottle. Is there anything you'd like to tell me before we get the results back?"

In the other room Warrick turned to Nick. "What's Mia's ETA on the DNA?"

Nick looked at his watch. "Supposed to be a priority, could be anytime now."

Gypsy seemed to realize she was being accused, her back straightened, her shoulders squared, she looked Brass straight in the eye and uttered the other sentence he'd heard almost every day of his career. "I didn't do it."

He nodded once, cleared his throatthinking: _Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say_. "So how'd the bottle get in your trash?"

Rolling her eyes, she snorted. "Anyone could have put it there. It's not like the door gets locked."

"Ok" Brass began, trying a different tactic. "What about your fingerprints on the water bottle?"

"What about them? I gave her a bottle of water."

"Where'd you get it from?"

"Fridge in the dressing room."

"There was a refrigerator in the dressing room? Isn't that a little excessive?"

She shrugged again. "Not really. Most of the stars have things like that in their contract."

Brass's eyes narrowed at the subject of Carly's contract. "Yeah, about that contract. We heard Barney Falade was pissed about it."

Gypsy sparked up, eager to have the spotlight off her. She sat up straight, putting both arms on to the table and leaned in. "Carly never wanted any of that stuff. Tommy's the one that did it. Said it gave her 'star power'." She flayed her fingers in an exaggeration. "Carly just liked to sing, she'd have been just as happy with just a microphone and an audience to sing to."

Nick turned his head, observing Warrick's expression. To a casual observer, Warrick's countenance hadn't changed, but his best friend saw a flicker of pride.

"Ok, so you gave her the poison…"

"I didn't know it was poisoned!"

"Ok, ok" Brass held his hands out, calming her "you gave her the water…"

Gypsy's eyes took on a distant look as she remembered the previous night. "Carly was so happy. She said it was good to be home again, and Ginger surprised her, and seeing her friend from high school…" a tear slipped down her cheek, remembering Carly like that, just an hour before her death.

Again, Nick took a glance over at Warrick. And this time, even he couldn't read his best friends expression.

"She was in _such_ a good mood. Not even Tommy's bullshit could bring her down."

"What bullshit is that?"

Gypsy looked Brass straight in the eye, wiping away the tear with the back of her hand. "Tommy Bryans is an arrogant asshole. Treated Carly like a child, never really cared what she wanted. That contract is a good example, all the extra stuff, that was for him, Carly never wanted any of that."

"What happened last night?"

She took a deep breath. "After her friends left, I walked her back stage to take down her hair and take off her makeup. She just kept giggling, laughing at every silly thing; she was in _such_ a good mood. She was going on and on about Ginger and her friend... I was gonna ask her about that really good looking guy I'd seen her with," Gypsy leaned in to the table and whispered, having no idea she was being observed through the glass, particularly by the really good looking guy she was talking about. "I was hoping she could hook me up."

It was Warrick's turn to glance at Nick, "Is being a suspect a prerequisite before you'll date a chick?" Nick ignored him.

"Yeah, well…" Brass restrained himself from turning in his chair and casting a glance though the mirror. From Nick's expression on the stage, it wasn't hard for the detective to figure out which CSI she was talking about.

"So, Tommy comes in, starts discussing the problems with that nights show. Lighting, sounds cues that kind of stuff. Carly blew him off. Said she'd talk to him this morning." Gypsy made a motion with her hand like she was shooing away a fly.

"When'd you give her the water?"

She thought about it. "Not long after that." She tilted her head, remembering something.

"What?" Brass asked.

"There was only one water. The one I gave her was the last one."

"That's unusual?"

"Well, I remember thinking that someone wasn't doing their job. It's always stocked, especially right after a show."

"Alright. So you gave her the last bottle of water, did she open it?"

Gypsy thought hard. "No. No, I remember, we brushed out her hair, and I was about to put it into a ponytail for her, when Tommy came back in, and demanded she come with him to his office."

"Demanded?"

"Yeah. He was being a huge di- … jerk."

Warrick snorted out a laugh despite himself "Man, you sure can pick 'em."

"And then what?" Brass asked.

Gypsy shrugged and teared up, "She made a few notes in her date book, followed him to his office. That was the last I saw her."

"Alright." Brass rose from the chair. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Nick kept his eyes on Gypsy as Brass left, Warrick watched the captain leave the room in front of him, to be followed seconds later by the reflection of Brass entering the room behind him.

"What're you thinking?" Warrick asked the reflected Brass.

The captain walked up to the mirror and joined the CSI's studying the suspect. He thought about the question for a moment.

"I think we need to wait for the DNA, but my gut says it's not her."

_a/n: HUGE HUGE HUGE Thank yous to alwayswrite005 for her shout out. And so I will return the favor. If you're looking for a really good story, your search is over: go read __Kiss Kiss YoBang__ one of the best Warrick/Catherine stories out there._

_Many thanks to Ruzila and Constance Sanders for their kind reviews. Does a heart good to hear. _


	10. Chapter 10

_"Warrick?"_

_"Warrick….Warrick!" Carly shook the sleeping form next to her, the panic in her voice rising. "My mom'll be home soon, you have to go. Warrick….Warrick!"_

"Hey Mia." He shook off the faint traces of memory; it flicked from his head like a candle blown out, leaving only pale wisp's in it's wake. "Finished with the results on the pill bottle?"

"Should be printing out any moment." She considered him for a moment. "You're all over the news."

"I'm what?"

"The reporters covering Carly's death, somebody found out about your friendship. All the stations have stories about you."

Warrick shook his head in bewilderment. "Don't even care."

"Alright, but they're saying-"

"I don't care what they're saying Mia." His eyes flashed at her. "I only want the DNA results, so we can arrest somebody."

The printer in the corner dinged and out slid the DNA report. Mia rolled her chair to the printer, grabbed the paper it had expelled and read it as she rolled back to the desk, finally handing it to his anxious hands. "Not a match to your suspect." Her voice was professional and icy.

"What?" He took the report and read it for himself. "DNA's male." He looked at Mia, but didn't see her, the cast of male suspects glided past his eyes. "Thanks Mia."

* * *

"So who are our male suspects?" Grissom asked. Each CSI had taken a seat around the table in the break room, helping themselves to the food Ecklie had had ordered. At first Greg had thought it kind of the Assistant Director, until he realized it was only a tactic to keep all of them in the lab and working. 

"Daughters boyfriend." Greg offered as he spooned potato salad on to his plate.

"We cleared him." Grissom said shortly, thinking Greg wasn't paying enough attention.

"Husband." Nick said, bringing a napkin to his lips to cover his mouthful of food.

"Who else?"

"The theatr manager, Barney Falade." Brass threw his two cents in as he sat down next to Catherine.

"Good." Grissom said ignoring the plate of barbeque Catherine had set down in front of him.

Across from Brass, Sara took a bite of her green salad and cast a sideways glance toward Warrick, sitting on her right. She hadn't been with him constantly throughout the day, but judging by his heaping plate, he hadn't eaten anything since the day before. And apparently, she thought to herself as she speared a tomato wedge with her fork, the break in the case had brought his appetite back full force. She wondered if what she'd found in Carly's notebook and now had in her pocket would change that.

"We need DNA from them both."

"I've sent a black and white to pick Barney up." Brass looked at his watch. "Should be back any minute now."

The statement seemed to spur everyone on, each one of them set about finishing their meal before the theatre manager arrived, and, hopefully, the case broke open.

"So Nick…" Catherine's voice was flippant, taking advantage of the mood of the moment. "Did you get her number?"

"Who's?"

"You know damn well who's."

Before Nick could answer, Brass spoke up, following Catherine's lead. "Oh, yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that." He swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

Nick took the moment and spoke up. "No, Catherine, as a matter of fact, I didn't speak to her before she was released."

Greg listened to the conversation, and although he hadn't heard about the encounter backstage, he quickly put the information together. "You mean you had the hots for another suspect?" He started to chuckle, almost choking on the roll in his mouth.

"Two suspects." Grissom stated, getting everyone back on subject, as well as saving Greg from Nick. "Both with motive and opportunity." He held out his hands, palms up. "Talk it out."

"In Carly's notebook," Sara began "she'd written down an appointment with a Robert Davenport. I looked him up, he's a lawyer."

"Were you able to speak with him?"

"Umhum." She swallowed the last bite of her salad and rose to throw the paper plate away. "He was reluctant to give me any concrete information, but he did tell me in a round about way that she was coming in to look over and sign a new will." She paused a moment while she sat back down, and noticed that she had everyone's attention. "Naming Ginger and the unborn child as sole heirs."

"There's the husbands motive." Nick said and pushed his empty plate away.

"I checked on prescriptions for everyone employed by the theater" Greg said "the only one associated with the show or the theater who was given a prescription for Ambien was one of the backup singers, Jill something."

"Johansen" Brass finished for him. "I think she's the husbands' girlfriend."

Sara couldn't help but notice Warrick had set down his fork on top of a half full plate.

"If she was about to change her will, Bryans might have thought he needed to kill her while he could still inherit," Greg said, sounding more like he was explaining it to himself.

A uniformed officer appeared in the open doorway. "Capitan? Your suspect, Falade is here."

"I've got Tommy Bryans being brought in as well," Brass added as he scooted his chair away from the table and stood. Taking two steps, he stopped next to Grissom. "You coming?"

"Yeah." Gil stood and followed Brass out of the room.

"Nick, let's go check on Archie's progress with the laptop." Catherine took her plate and stood up, throwing it in the trash next to the door as she left. It was lost on no one that she hadn't said a word to Warrick during dinner.

"Think I'll go watch the interrogation, pick up a few pointers." Greg said as he stood.

"I'll clean up," Sara offered as Nick and Greg both picked up their plates. An exchange of glances told both men that she wanted a few minutes alone with Warrick.

"Ok Sar, thanks."

After they left the room, Sara tuned in her chair, her knees brushing Warrick's.

"What's up?" He asked her quietly.

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a folded envelope and handed it to him. "I found this in Carly's notebook. Technically it should be evidence …" her voice trailed off leaving the sentence hanging in the air.

Warrick took the envelope from her and turned it over. His name was handwritten on its face in loopy female handwriting. "I figured that if there was anything pertinent in there, you'd let us know. And if there's not…" she reached for Nick and Greg's plates and piled them on top of her own "then I suppose I never saw a thing." Taking the stack of paper plates she crossed to the door, throwing them away on her way out, leaving a stunned Warrick alone with the letter from Carly.

* * *

Barney Falade was a large, imposing man, who looked like a one time professional wrestler; nothing at all like the image Jim Brass had had in mind of a short stocky guy who looked more like Barney Ruble than the Fred Flintstone who sat in front of him. 

Brass took a sip of coffee; using the moment to size up the man, work out the best approach. "What's up Barn?"

"You tell me. You're the ones who drug me in here." Falade glared at Brass, then shifted his glance to Grissom. The criminologist remained silent.

"Do you know _why_ we asked you to come in?"

Falade grunted out a laugh at Jim's use of the word 'ask'. "I suppose it's got to do with Carly's accident, but I don't know nothin' about that."

"Wasn't an accident." Brass said simply.

It took Barney a moment to understand what he was being told. "Ho', then I _sure_ don't know nothin' about it!"

"Carly was poisoned, the accident was just a byproduct. And, we have the DNA of the guy who did it."

"So? What do you want from me? I ain't got no DNA."

Brass had heard some stupid things uttered by suspects before, but this had to be a topper.

Grissom was tired. He wanted this case solved, and the sooner the better. "Open your mouth" he ordered, peeling away the plastic covering on a swab.

"What?" Falade said though clenched teeth and lips.

"You _do_ have DNA as a matter of fact, and I'm going to take a sample of it with this. It won't hurt. Now open your mouth. Please."

"Will it get you off my back?"

"Possibly."

"Yeah, ok then." He tilted his head back, and opened his mouth wide, like he was sitting in a dentist's chair. Grissom and Brass exchanged a quick glance. Grissom cocked an eyebrow, and got out of his chair to take the sample.

A few moments later, in the hall, Grissom told Brass, "Get Catherine for the husbands DNA sample, I'm taking this to Mia."

* * *

"Nope." Tommy Bryans sat next to his attorney and shook his head. "You're not sticking anything in my mouth." 

"Unless you have a court order for his DNA…?" The lawyer paused to let either Brass or Catherine speak up. When neither did, he smirked victoriously and continued. "In that case, I'll be taking my client home now."

Catherine silently watched them leave the room. At the threshold, Tommy turned back and shot her a foul leering smile just before he walked out the door.

* * *

"We need his DNA for comparison." Grissom stated, even though he knew both people in his office were fully aware of that. 

"We can't get a warrant for his house, so his toothbrush or hairbrush are out." Brass said, sounding more like he was thinking out loud than communicating anything.

"We could go back to the theater," Catherine suggested.

"And what?" Grissom asked. "Even if we find something _we_ know to have his DNA on it, we can't use it in court unless we have witness's to testify that it is in fact Tommy's item, and therefore DNA."

"And I can guarantee you that he's there now tossing everything out." Brass said.

"Hang on…" Catherine said, her mind picking at a memory buried underneath two days worth of information. Brass and Grissom were quiet, watching her sort though the mental pictures, until her eyes lit up, coming across the memory she'd been searching for. She jumped out of her chair, nearly running as she left Grissoms office.

* * *

_"All right, I'm awake. You'd think we lived in California, all this shaking going on." He turned on his side, so he was facing Carly, and propped his head up with his arm. He felt like he should say something, do something… a guy couldn't just leave, after sex, could he…? His mind raced through scenes of the movies, searching for an idea, and finally settled on one of his own. "Are you ok?" _

_"What? Oh, yeah. I'm ok." Suddenly shy, Carly moved her eyes to the blanket on the living room floor that covered them both. "You?"_

_Warrick tried his best to be cool. He didn't know what he was. Happy, relieved, ecstatic, scarred, pissed at himself; a little bit of everything. "Yeah" he reassured her. _

"_Good." Carly said animated again. "'Cause you've got to go home." She glanced over her shoulder to the clock on the wall. "Now." _

"Going home soon would be nice." Hodges told Mia as he entered the break room.

"Yeah, tell me about it. Although I'd kinda like to be around when they make an arrest," Mia answered him just as she noticed Warrick sitting at the table. Concern crossed over her face, her brow knitted, "Warrick? Are you Ok?"

Warrick sat still in his chair, holding the sealed envelope in his hands, finally realizing he wasn't alone in the room anymore, and that someone was speaking to him. Blinking, he looked up toward Mia, her question coming back to him. "What? Yeah…" he stood up as Hodges and Mia sat down. "I'm…" he muttered as he walked out of the room.

The two techs at the table stared after him. "I don't think he's fine" Hodges said after a moment.


	11. Chapter 11

"Nothing?" Sara asked incredulously. "Nothing at all?"

Archie shook his head, and shut the laptop. "Nope. E-mail's to and from her niece… uh, daughter. I printed them out for you." He handed Nick a stack of paper. "There's a scanned copy of the contract with the theater, that hasn't been opened since it was saved. Other than that, it doesn't look like she used this much at all."

Nick listened to the lab tech as he skimmed through the sheets of emails, and looked up quickly when Archie was finished. "Ok, thanks Arch." He handed Sara half of the stack and they set off to find a place to read through the exchanges.

* * *

Catherine pushed though the locker room door like a hurricane blast. Opening her locker, she pulled her purse out and stuck her hand in, rummaging for her keys. "Carry way to much crap" she mumbled to herself as her hand grabbed and released items though her purse; pocket mirror, lipstick, a receipt. She'd just come across her checkbook when Warrick came though the door. 

She looked up. "Hey" she hesitated, still unsure of how things were between them.

"I didn't realize anyone was in here, sorry." He turneD

Catherine took a relieved breath, and returned her attention to her purse, finding her keys immediately. Clutching them, she raced out the door.

Warrick wandered the halls; searching for another place he could get some privacy. He thought about sitting in the SUV, but when he opened the door that lead to the parking lot, the massive clutch of reporters and television cameras stopped him cold. Warrick shut the door behind him ignoring the reporters shouted pleas fD

Catherine took a relieved breath, and returned her attention to her purse, finding her keys immediately. Clutching them, she raced out the door.

Warrick wandered the halls; searching for another place he could get some privacy. He thought about sitting in the SUV, but when he opened the door that lead to the parking lot, the massive clutch of reporters and television cameras stopped him cold. Warrick shut the door behind him ignoring the reporters shouted pleas for a statement, and retraced his steps down the lab halls, racking his brain for a place he could read the letter from Carly.

Of course. Mentally kicking himself, he turned around, and started down another hallway.

* * *

"Lindsay!" The front door slammed shut behind Catherine, and she jogged down the hall toward her daughter's bedroom. 

"Mom?" Lindsay was half sitting up in bed, using one hand to rub her eyes when Catherine walked through the doorway. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry to wake you up, but, Honey, after the concert the other night…" having sudden inspiration, Catherine headed to Lindsay's bureau, and started shuffling through the items on top.

"Mom, what're you doing?" Lindsay tossed the covers off and climbed out of bed, hurrying to her mother's side. "What're you looking for?" Her hands fell to the dresser, touching everything Catherine discarded, and replacing it where it had been a moment before.

A sigh of frustrated exhaustion escaped Catherine's mouth. It wasn't here. She put her hands on the small of her back and stretched, her head falling backwards a bit, and that's when she saw it hanging from the top corner of Lindsay's mirror.

She grabbed at it, tugging it free. "NO Mom! Not that! Not now." Lindsay cried out in protest.

Catherine bent and took Lindsay's face in her hands. "I'm so sorry baby, but this is going to help us arrest the man that killed Carly."

Lindsay's face was a mask of disappointment, at the loss of her idol and the memento her mother was taking away from her. After a moment tears filled her eyes, and she relented. "Ok."

* * *

Warrick entered the morgue quietly, and found Doc Robbins working on another body. Blinking, it occurred to the CSI that he'd been so wrapped up in Carly's death, he hadn't realized that other people had died over the past couple days. "Doc?" 

Robbins turned, a plastic facemask warped his features, and he raised his right hand, the scalpel in it caught the light, the sharp metal winked at Warrick. The doctor look like a crazed killer in a B movie. "Warrick. What can I do for you?"

"Has Carly been released yet?" His eyes stole toward the row of square doors on the wall.

"No." Doc replaced the blade back on to the tray of lined up instruments and lifted the plastic facemask. Tilting his head, he scrutinized the CSI before him. Satisfied that Warrick was of sound mind, he asked: "Would you like a moment alone?"

Warrick nodded solemnly. "Please."

"Alright then." Robbins turned back to the body on the table, and pulled the sheet up coving the corpse. As he headed toward the side door that connected with his office, he said, "Number 16."

* * *

"Mia!" 

The DNA tech jumped at the sound of her name being barked in the quiet office. She swiveled in her chair wondering when her co-workers would learn that unlike Greg Sanders, she didn't wear earphones blasting rock music. Using an extremely quiet voice that she hoped Catherine, would take as an example, Mia answered her. "Yes, Catherine, how can I help you?"

Catherine held out the plastic encased badge, it's black chord wound tightly around it, which Carly had given Lindsay backstage the night of the concert. "This was worn by a suspect, think you can get DNA off it?"

Mia took it from her and examined the chord. With a facial shrug, she said, "I can try."

* * *

Standing in front of door 16, Warrick felt frozen. He didn't want to open the drawer, didn't want to see Carly so pale and cold. Didn't want to read the letter gripped in his hand. 

_"I don't really want to leave you alone." He said as he pulled on his shirt. Amazingly, Carly had turned away from him when he'd stood up. She clutched the blanket to her, leaving her bare back exposed. As his head popped out through the neck hole, he caught a glimpse of her smooth skin before he forced himself to avert his eyes._

_"You have to, my mom's shift is over in a few minutes, and you don't want to catch it from your grandmother either." Panic was rising in her voice._

_He kneeled down on the floor next to her, brushed back the hair lying across her shoulder._

Doc Robbins coughed inside his office. It didn't sound like a noise made specifically to hurry him on, but Warrick understood the doctor had work to do. Closing his eyes, he reached out and grabbed the handle; pulling open the door Carly's body was behind.

* * *

Catherine floated into Grissom's office, a cat like smile on her face, and slapped a file down on to the desk in front of him. "I got a DNA match to the husband." 

"From what?" Grissom asked, opening the file and scanning the report. Brass quickly got up from the chair and moved around to Grissom's side of the desk to read the report. Catherine began to explain; telling them the story of how Carly had unknowingly contributed to the apprehension her own killer.

* * *

_Dear Warrick,_

_I'm so sorry, but we're moving. I think we're headed to Wyoming, maybe Cheyenne. My mom says Vegas isn't safe anymore._

_I need to tell you something, and I guess maybe it's better to tell you this way, I don't know if I could tell you in person anyway. After graduation, I got a job at one of the casinos, I'm not gonna tell you which one. Well there was this guy there, one of the dealers, and he reminded me so much of you._

_We had dinner one night, and he was so sweet to me, it was almost like being with you again, and I missed you so much…_

_He was driving me home, but he took what he said was a wrong turn, and we ended up miles away from my house, in a part of town I'd never seen before. Oh Warrick, it was so awful, he said the most nasty things, and he wasn't like you at all. He made me._

_Oh God, he made me. I just laid there the whole time, and I thought about you. It was like it was better, cause you were with me._

_I told my mom a couple of days later, that's why we're moving. She wants to take me away from here. I think she wants to pretend it didn't happen._

_Please remember me, and know that I will always love you._

_Carly_

Warrick hands were shaking, the eighteen-year-old letter Carly had written but never mailed quivered in his hands. Rage and despair formed a tight knot in his stomach. Looking down at the face of the woman lying on the table in front of him, he wished she'd told him back then, wished she'd told him in person. Wished he could have held her in his arms and made it all go away.

There were so many damn things that could have been different.

* * *

"What do you want now?" Tommy Bryans leaned against the front door of his house, wearing a maroon colored silk kimono. Brass thought he looked like a pretentious twit. 

"Good morning," Brass greeted from the doorstep, the words sarcastic, but the smile was real. "You're under arrest for the murder of Carly Lynne James."

"Tommy?" Jill Johansen emerged from around the corner just in time to see the captain putting handcuffs on her lover. "What's going on?"

Brass finished cuffing Bryans and looked over to the girl. "Jill Johansen?"

"Yes?"

"Yeah, you're going to need to come with me too." He entered the house and took Jill by the arm.

"Can I at least change first? Please?" She was wearing only a thin white baby doll kind of nightie, Brass knew instantly what they'd been doing. Or had just begun to do.

"Uh, yeah. You probably should."

* * *

Four very long hours later, Tommy Bryans sat in the interrogation room signing the written confession. 

Catherine watched through the glass as Tommy finished the letter 's' at the end of his name and tossed the pen onto the paper and pushed it across the table. Brass took it and with a glance toward the woman on the other side of the mirror, he left the interrogation room. Catherine reached over and turned off the volume on the speaker as Tommy's lawyer leaned toward his client and began to whisper. Whatever the attorney had to say wasn't her business, and didn't really matter anymore.

With a smile on her face, she headed down the hall to report the confession to Grissom. Ecklie was standing in Gil's office when she walked in. "Good morning Catherine," the assistant director said as she strode in through the doorway. His squinting eyes traveled up and down her body. "You're looking none the worse for wear for all this overtime."

"Thank you, Conrad." There was question in her eyes and words. She turned, to face Grissom sitting behind his desk. Ecklie could and should hear about the confession, but she'd rather look at Grissom while she spoke.

"He copped to the whole thing. Carly told him Ginger was her daughter, not her niece a few months back. When Bryans got the feeling that Carly was on to his affair with the backup singer, he assumed she'd be changing her will, so he snooped around till he found out about the appointment with the lawyer. When Ginger showed up in Vegas, and Carly sent her home in the limo, that's when he got the idea for the sleeping pills, thinking we'd chalk the death up to a car accident. He knew the mistress, Jill, had the sleeping pills. So during the concert, he opened all the capsules dumping them into one bottle of water, took all the bottles out of the dressing room refrigerator, leaving only the poisoned one, so Carly would have no choice but to drink that one." Catherine finished the monologue and settled into the chair on the other side of Grissom's desk.

"What about the girlfriend?"

Catherine shook her head. "Both Tommy and she swear she had nothing to do with it. Tell you the truth, I believe them. I don't think that girl could have kept a secret like that to herself, she'd have told someone."

Rising from his seat, Ecklie told them, "Good work. All of you. The sheriff will be pleased." He looked at his watch. "Go get some sleep, your shift starts again in a few hours." With a forced smile, he left the office and headed down the hall.

"He's got a good idea, for once." Catherine began to get up from her own chair.

"Sit down, please Catherine. We have something to discuss." Grissom's voice had an air to it that shocked her into sitting back down. Grissom shuffled a few papers on his desk, pulling out a red, white and blue cardboard envelope he'd purposely hidden. A FedEx envelope. "This arrived for you this morning while you were in with the suspect. Judy brought it to me, seeing as how it's from the FBI, she thought it was something that needed to be opened right away." Catherine's heart skipped a beat, but she squared her shoulders and kept her mouth shut. Grissom took in her silence for a moment. "I thought I told you no."

"What you told me was not to have Mia run the test, I didn't."

Exasperated, Grissom sighed forcefully. "Semantics, Catherine."

She scooted up in her chair, "Gil, I just wanted-"

"No." His voice was so forceful she shrank back down away from the weight of it. He wasn't very good at this, he knew. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

"Does Ecklie know?"

Ecklie. "No." Grissom said, then added "Not yet." To her imploring expression, he explained, "I have to tell him Catherine, he's supposed to sign off on anything sent to an outside lab, especially the FBI."

After a few moments, Catherine asked quietly, "So what now?"

Grissom considered his answer. "At the very least there'll be a reprimand in your personnel file, anything else, I'll have to discuss with Conrad."

Catherine stood to leave while the getting was good. She hesitated and Grissom looked up at her. "Can I have the results?"

* * *

She found him in the locker room, sitting on one of the benches, with his arms on his thighs, his head hanging down. He didn't move with the sound of the door, or her footsteps into the room, and for a moment, she thought he'd fallen asleep in that position. 

"Warrick?" she spoke his name softly.

He lifted his head and looked at her with weary eyes. "Hey," he answered just as softly.

She slid onto the bench next to him, the FedEx clasped in between both hands. After a moment she held the envelope out to him.

"What's this?" He asked.

She brought her head up and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. "I sent your and Gingers DNA to Quantico. Those are the results."

Warrick stared at her unbelieving. Then stared at the envelope. Looking back at her, his eyes wide. "You had the FBI run a paternity test?"

"I couldn't get you booked on Jerry Springer."

She still held the envelope, it floated between them. He finally took it from her, and relaxed back into the position she'd first seen him in, holding it in his hands, staring at it, still shocked.

"You gonna open it?"

Warrick slowly shook his head, but it didn't seem like an answer to Catherine. "I don't think I'm Gingers father."

"What?"

He straightened up and met her gaze. "Carly wrote me a letter, all those years ago, and carried it around with her in that notebook of hers. Sara found it, gave it to me. Carly was raped a few weeks after graduation."

Catherine put her hand to her mouth, holding in a gasp. "Did she tell you who?"

"No. And I don't think she knew she was pregnant when she wrote it."

"But your eyes…"

"Yeah. Well, Carly had blue eyes too. And from what she wrote, the guy was probably black."

"Which would explain Ginger's complexion."

"Yeah."

"But there's still a possibility you're her father."

Warrick thought about that, then opened the envelope and slid out the single sheet of paper. He read it silently, and Catherine fought the urge to ask him what it said. After a moment, he shook his head, still reading. "Negative."

A disappointed sigh escaped from Catherine. "Oh, Warrick. I'm so sorry." She gathered him in her arms, her head on his shoulder.

He grunted out a laugh. "Nothing to be sorry about." He put a hand on her arm that crossed his chest. "I didn't have daughter a couple days ago, and I still don't have one."

Catherine picked her head up and looked him in the eye, evaluating the truthfulness of his statement. With a resigned sigh, she said: "Come on, you need to get home and get some sleep." She pulled her arms off from around him and stood, headed for the door.

"Yeah" he agreed.

She paused, holding the door open with one hand. "You coming?"

"Right behind you."

In the hall, Warrick slid the FBI report into the first trashcan they passed.

Bright morning sunlight flooded his eyes as he watched Catherine drive away. He turned to walk to his own car, stopped in his tracks by the sight of a funeral home hearse sitting outside the back door to the coroner's office. As he watched, both David and Doc Robbins emerged from the building, and stood silently next to the open door of the hearse. A gurney carrying a black body bag rolled out right behind them. Warrick watched as they loaded the body. The driver shook hands with David then climbed in behind the wheel and started out of the parking lot.

"I love you too Carly."

_fini_

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a/n: And so dear readers, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.

Thank you to Mma63, iwantboromir, ruzila, ConstanceSanders and of course Navaer for their reviews and thoughtful words

Much appreciation to alwayswrite05 for her beta, her advice, and for putting up with my silly questions.

Sunset


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